


Don't Go Softly

by mimijones



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crooked Cops, Disabled Character, Foefic, High School, Homosexuality, Mentions of drugs, More tags to come as I think of them, Multi, Racism, Trans Character, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3127013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimijones/pseuds/mimijones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bella Swan - Teenage Girl Extraordinaire, Art Nerd, Literary Buff - is being shipped from the big city of Phoenix, Arizona to the sleepy, Steven King-esque town of Forks, Washington. Seriously, it's a small town that's constantly being rained on, how much more horror movie can you get? But things like that only happen in movies, right?<br/>But then why is Edward Cullen glaring at her in Biology? And what is <i>with</i> his family? Why is Charlie taking bribes? What exactly is going on in Forks, Washington?<br/>Bella's just found herself as the heroine in a real life thriller.<br/>Bring it on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> I've always found Twilight to be one of the biggest literary tragedies in existence. What a set-up! Vampires infiltrating small-town America? Werewolves in plain sight? An estranged father and daughter? All through the eyes of an intrepid heroine? And what a waste it fell into the hands of a writer like _Stephanie Meyer_.  
>  This is basically my take on how Twilight should have gone.  
> (Some of the dialogue in the first chapter is being lifted from the book. This changes really soon.)

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt – sleeveless, white eyelet lace. My carry-on item was a parka.

  
In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old with only a “Just let me go, Charlie,” tossed over her shoulder. It was in this town I’d been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. These past three summers Charlie, my father, and I had gone on some pretty awesome, two-week vacations to California.

  
It was to Forks that I now went – an action that I regarded with dread and anticipation in equal measure. I loved Phoenix with its big-city charms, but it was clear that I had over stayed my welcome.

“Bella,” my mother said to me – the last of a thousand times – before I got on the plane. “You don’t have to do this.”

My mother looks like me, except her chestnut hair is trimmed short and her pale skin is marred with lines. I felt a surge of irritation as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. This was her fault as much as mine. It was her fault for marrying Phil; perceptive, close-minded, suffocating _Phil_.

“I want to go,” I said unconvincingly. More like _I have to go_ , if one is being perfectly honest.

“Tell Charlie I said hello.”

“I will.”

“I’ll see you soon,” she insisted. “You can come home whenever you want – I’ll come right back as soon as you need me.”

I could always tell when my mother was lying. It usually wasn’t this blatant.  
“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “It’ll be great. I love you, Mom.”  
She hugged me tightly for a moment, then I turned and boarded my plane and she was gone.  
It’s a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks.

Charlie had been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him permanently. He’d already registered me for the local high school and was going to help me find a car. However, despite our summers together, Charlie was still virtually a stranger to me. I didn’t know if I could trust him, or even live with him. He was the Chief of Police; he might end up being worse than _Phil_. It was a gamble. I grinned suddenly, baring my teeth and alarming my neighbor. Phoenix had gotten boring lately, and a sleepy little town straight out of a Steven King novel sounded perfect for relieving the monotony. _It’ll probably end up having robots or hiding some gruesome serial killer_ , I thought facetiously.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn’t see it as an omen – just unavoidable. Charlie was waiting for me with his cruiser. This was one of the reasons I needed a car, nothing slows down traffic like a cop car.

Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the plane; landing had been _terrible_.  
“It’s good to see you, Bells,” he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied me. “You haven’t changed much. How’s Renée?”

“Mom is fine. It’s good to see you, too, Dad.”

I only had a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too warm-weather for Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.

“I got you a car,” he said when we were strapped in.

“What kind of car?” I asked, surprised. I’d mentioned over the phone that I’d like to go car shopping once I got to Forks, but I didn’t expect for him to go and buy me one.

“Well, it’s a truck actually, a Chevy.”

“Where did you find it?”

“Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?” La Push is the Native American reservation on the coast; we visited often for fishing and the like during my summers here.

“Rachel and Beck’s dad?” I had fond memories of playing in the surf and sand with Rachel and Rebecca Black who, being both identical twins and a year older than me, were the coolest people _ever_. They had a younger brother too, Jacob, but he was usually busy with his friends. I could faintly remember a dark haired woman laughing in the background – Sarah Black, Rachel and Becca’s dead mom. “Yeah, of course I remember him.”

“He’s in a wheelchair now,” Charlie continued, “so he can’t drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap.”

“Oh God, what happened? Was there an accident?” All of my memories were of Billy moving: giving Rachel or me a piggy-back ride, teaching Jake how to fish, helping Rebecca bake, or the year he and Charlie rented Harry Clearwater’s boat and took us all up to Bella Bella for the Qutawas Festival.

“No, just the diabetes. Rachel offered to take a semester off to help, but Billy wouldn’t hear of it. I’ve been spending a lot of time up at La Push to help out and Jake’s really stepped up to the plate, but… It’s been hard on him.” Charlie sounded grim.

“I’m so sorry, Dad. Maybe we should go see him over the weekend, after I settle in?” I offered.

“Yeah, I think he’d like that.”

We both lapsed into a heavy silence. After a few minutes, I couldn’t take the sadness and decided to change the subject.

“So, tell me about the truck. What year is it?” He shot me an ‘ _I was really hoping you wouldn’t ask that_ ’ look, which did not inspire much confidence.

“Well, Billy’s done a lot of work on the engine – it’s only a few years old, really.”

Deflecting the question. He’s going to send me around town in a tin can, isn’t he?

“When did he buy it?”

“He bought it in 1984, I think.”

“Did he buy it new?” Oh please Lord let it be-

“Well,” crap. “No. I think it was new in the early sixties – or late fifties at the earliest.

“Dad, I don’t know the first thing about cars! Billy might have been able to keep it running, but what if it breaks down? We can’t afford a mechanic,” my voice took on the slightly lecturing tone I used when Mom blew her paycheck on junk or some really good investment, honestly, Bella, it’ll work out great.

“The car runs great, Bells. And if you don’t like it we’ll get you a new one, no harm no foul. I bought it mostly as a favor to Jacob, really.”

With that, everything became clear. Charlie probably offered to help out with expenses, Billy being a stubborn old man turned him down, so Charlie bought – and probably overpaid for – the old rust-bucket Billy couldn’t drive anymore. The medical bills get paid, Billy is left with his (bullheaded) pride intact, and everyone goes away happy.

Well, at least my car money can go into the college fund now.

“You didn’t need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car.”

“I don’t mind. I want you to be happy here.”

“That’s really nice, Dad. Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

“Well, now, you’re welcome.”

The conversation puttered to a halt once again and I looked out the window. Everything was green. Beautiful, really, but jarring to someone accustomed to Arizona’s stark beauty.

Eventually we made it to Charlie’s. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he’d bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage. Then again that’s the only kind of days their marriage had. There, parked on the street in front of the house that had never changed was my new – well, new to me – truck. To my intense surprise, I loved it. It was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged – the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of foreign car that it had destroyed. A new coat of paint and I wouldn’t be ashamed to drive it to school.

“Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!” I turned and hugged him.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Charlie said gruffly, surprised and a bit embarrassed at my exuberance.

I went over and patted its hood. “I christen you _the thing_ ,” I told it.

It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. My bedroom, with its west facing window, high peaked ceiling, the yellow lace curtains, and wooden floor, had been mine since birth. The only changes were a bed instead of a crib and a second-hand computer on my desk. Mom’s rocking chair was still in the corner. I had always loved this room.

There was only one small bathroom upstairs and I was to share it with Charlie. This I loved significantly less.

Charlie doesn’t hover, so I was left alone to unpack and get settled. I decided to wait until the weekend to spray-paint _the thing_. By then I might have found someone to help, alone the endeavor would take a whole day. I sat down in my old-lady-rocking-chair and considered. Forks High School had a rough total of three hundred and fifty students. All the kids knew each other – their grandparents had been toddlers together. I smiled. If I can survive a small town then I can fit in anywhere. I would be the new girl from the big city. They would stare. Now how do I turn that attention into something more positive, and more lasting…? After my mental image of Bella Swan 2.0 was complete I freshened up and went to sleep.  
***  
The next morning dawned grey and miserable. In all of my brilliant planning, I’d failed to take into account the rain; mainly it’s constant drumming against the roof and the whooshing of the wind keeping me up all night. I’d ended up piling my faded old quilt and pillow over my head to muffle the noise and nearly crying from frustration. I only dropped off sometime in the small hours of the morn, after the rain stopped. Okay, first thing on my to-do list: earplugs.

I woke up early enough to break my fast with Charlie, despite the fact that he had to be up and out of the house far earlier than I would be. I wondered if he’d waited for me. In any case, breakfast was quiet, yet comfortable. I think I could get used to Charlie’s unobtrusive presence. He was calming to be around. He wished me luck before he going off to the job that was his wife and family, and leaving me alone in the house that was a shrine to his failed marriage. I doubt he’s changed a thing in the past eighteen years – the cabinets are certainly the same sunny yellow mom had painted them – except to add my school pictures onto the procession on the mantel. My whole life was up there, starting with the wedding picture of Charlie and my visibly pregnant mother in Las Vegas and ending with a sixteen year-old me in a Santa hat at some school function.

It was impossible to be in this house and not realize that Charlie was still hung up on Renée, or at least the family and future he’d begun to build with her. I was torn between finding it all very sad and a strong surge of sympathy towards Charlie. The emotions made me uncomfortable and I decided to go to school. It was still too early, but then again it was my first day; it’s prudent to be prepared and eagerness is endearing. God, I love alliteration.

It was drizzling out, but my truck was warm and dry. The engine roared to life like a fighter jet and the seats stunk of tobacco, but it started quickly and the radio worked so I counted it as a plus and added buying Febreeze to my mental to-do list.

Finding the school wasn’t difficult, though I’d never been there before. It was just off the highway with a very conscientious sign stating ‘Forks High School’. It was a set of maroon-brick buildings landscaped heavily with trees and shrubs. I decided that stopping by the front office and getting directions would be the first order of the day. I parked in a probably-reserved empty space – no use being the new kid if you can’t exploit it – that was close to the door. My warm truck made the outside air that much colder by comparison.  
Inside the office it was bright and they obviously had a heater going. There was a small, folding-chair populated waiting area in front of a large counter that bisected the room. Behind it were three desks one of which was manned by a large bespectacled red-head.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I’m Isabella Swan.”

“Of course,” she said. They’d obviously been expecting me. “I have your schedule right here and a map of the school for you.”  
I left the office a bit later with a ream of papers and a note that my teachers were all to sign. When I got to my truck other students had arrives. As I drove around I was pleased to see that most cars were older like mine. In Phoenix it wasn’t strange to see a Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a silver Volvo and it stood out.

After I found a spot, I lingered in my truck for a few minutes, trying to commit the map to memory; it’s prudent to be prepared, after all. I slid the map back into my bag and took a moment to breathe deep and center myself. I fixed in my mind the image I’d come up with last night, standing in front of the bathroom mirror and the game plan I’d tinkered with most of the night. I set my shoulders and stepped out of the truck.

It was easy to find my first class; the buildings all had clearly visible numbers and the layout was simple enough. The classroom was small, which didn’t come as a surprise given the student population, and there was a row of hooks inside the door to hang up your coat.  
I introduced myself to the teacher, a Mr. Mason, and gave him the slip to sign. He gawked when I said my name – trouble with the law, maybe? – and directed me to a seat in the back. For the rest of class I watched as my classmates turned to give me what I suppose they thought were subtle glances. According to the handouts he gave me, they were covering the classics, selected works from Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Faulkner. I’d already read them, both for AP English Lit last year and some pleasure reading. Hopefully, I’d be able to recycle my old essays and devote my attention to my other classes. Transferring mid-year had its downsides, one of which being that you have to play catch-up for the rest of the year.

When the bell rang a gangly boy leaned across the aisle to talk to me. He had hair black as an oil slick and his pale-gold skin was pockmarked by angry red pimples.

“You’re Isabella Swan, aren’t you?” He looked like the overly helpful, chess club types.

“Bella,” I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me. Wow, but life here must be boring.

“Where’s your next class?” he asked. Odd. 9 times out of ten, the first thing someone does after asking for your name is to introduce themselves. To not do so creates a power imbalance and implies a selfish and controlling personality type. Or he could be so eager to ask where I’m going next that he rushes through the pleasantries.

I have to fish my schedule out of my bag to answer his question, giving me the time for my rapid fire analysis. “Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six,” my voice rose slightly at the end, giving my statement an air of uncertainty.

“I’m heading towards building four, I could show you the way…” he said quickly. He’d probably been composing the offer for several minutes, giving credence to my over-eagerness theory. “I’m Eric Lee,” he added, and thus cemented it. The controlling type would wait for me to ask for their name.

I gave him a tentative smile, peeking at him through the curtain of my hair, “Thanks.”

The drizzle of this morning had thickened into rain.

“So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?” he asked.

“Very,” there were several people within eavesdropping distance. If the attention I’ve received so far is any indication, whatever I said would be all around the school by lunch.

“It doesn’t rain much there, does it?”

“Three or four times a year.”

He looked impressed. “Wow, what must that be like?”

“Sunny.”

“You don’t look very tan.” Oh joy, personal comments on my appearance from the peanut gallery.

“My mother is part albino,” I replied, parroting the words of countless people back in Phoenix. Yeah, let’s all laugh at Bella and how she needs ten coats of sunscreen or else her skin will peel off from the sun!

He studied my face apprehensively, probably picking up on my irritation at this line of questioning. I hoped I hadn’t offended him. Not his fault he’d stumbled on one of my pet peeves, especially since complaining about it usually got the response of ‘ _poor little white girl, she’s too white!_ ’ And they’re perfectly right of course; it’s a ridiculous thing to get riled up about.

Apparently I hadn’t, though, because he still walked me to the door of my class and wished me luck.

“Maybe we’ll have some other classes together,” he said as we parted ways.

I smiled at him and went inside.

The rest of my morning was both uneventful and successful. Someone introduced themselves and quizzed me on ‘life in a big city’ and how I was settling in almost every class. They usually walked me to my next class, too.

One girl set next to me in both Trig and Spanish – Jessica, she’d introduced herself as – and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, and wore her hair natural, the ‘fro making up most of the difference in our heights. I wondered if it was more or less difficult to maintain in this constant rain. Jessica was a godsend, telling me everything about the teachers and classes and offering to introduce me to ‘everyone’ at lunch.

Her table at lunch was packed, and Jessica’s everyone looked impressed at her having the ‘new girl’ in tow. On the way there, Eric waved and I gave him a wave.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom making conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They sat in the corner of the cafeteria on the far side of the room, the five of them. They were the first students not to at least glance in my direction and that alone aroused my curiosity – yes, I do know how narcissistic that sounds, but I’m a teenage girl; we’re allowed. What held my attention though, was their behavior. They didn’t talk, or visibly interact with each other, or eat from their full trays.  
Physically, they simultaneously looked nothing alike and were distressingly similar. It was like someone had put out a casting call for people with paper-white skin, dark eyes, and extreme, unnatural beauty. That was where the similarities ended. The three boys were an eclectic group: a brunet who was packing some serious muscle (football player, maybe) and looked a bit too old to be a high-schooler, a red-head who was facing away from me and appeared to be of medium height and stature, and a tall, thin blond with high cheekbones and a Roman nose. The two girls were as different as could be while still being pretty, young, and white; one a statuesque blonde who looked like she stepped out of an Alma-Tadema painting, the other small and as painfully thin as a war refugee.

As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray of untouched food and walked away, seeming to float rather than walk across the hard linoleum. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging despite their comrade’s departure. It was unnerving.

“Who are they?” I asked Jessica. As she turned to look at who I meant the red-head looked up at us. In that second I saw a face like something Caravaggio might paint. (I have a thing for classical art, especially the more decadent periods, and these pale strangers warranted such lavish descriptions.) I quickly looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring. Jessica let out a slight giggle.

“That’s Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife.” She said all of this conspiratorially, in an undertone, as if it was meant for my ears alone. I gave another shy glance towards the Cullen table, where the red-headed boy was picking a bagel to pieces and saying something. His mouth moved very quickly. He must be speaking to his…siblings? But they didn’t look his way.

What strange names, barring Alice and Edward, which were classics. I haven’t met a Jasper or an Emmett before. There were girls named Rosa back in Arizona, but ‘Rosalie’ was a new variation. Maybe they were family names.

“They are… very nice looking.” That was an understatement; other than the slight bags under their eyes, their skin was flawless. Eric must be weeping in envy.

“Yes!” Jessica agreed. She giggled again almost nervously before adding, “They’re all together though – Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together.” Curiouser and curiouser. I do hope they’re not related.

“Which ones are the Cullens?” I asked. “They don’t look related…” I trailed off, leaving the incest question implicit.

“Oh, they’re not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They’re all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins – the blonds – and they’re foster children.” Well, trauma could explain their odd… pair-bondings. I wonder why Dr. and Mrs. Cullen allow it, though…

“They look a little old for foster children.” And a little too pretty. Really, this whole situation is making the ‘sexual abuse’ alarms go off in my head.

“They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they’ve been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She’s their aunt or something like that.”

She must have been very young, early twenties at most. “That must have been tough, taking in two kids at such a young age, and then adopting three more.”

“Well, I think that Mrs. Cullens can’t have kids.” Jessica said slowly. “They’re loaded, like real old money, so Mrs. Cullen doesn’t have to work and just stays at home taking care of the kids, yaknow? I guess she wanted a big family.”

My eyes flicker back over to the Cullen table, where the strange family still sat silently, looking at the walls and not eating.

“Have they always lived in Forks?” I asked, knowing the answer was probably no. I’d remember them from my visits here, if only for their stunning looks if not their bizarre behavior.

“No, they just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska.”

From across the room the red-headed boy caught my gaze. I looked away.

“Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?” He was still looking at me, seemingly slightly frustrated.

“That’s Edward. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time. He doesn’t date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him,” she sniffed, a strange mix of bitterness and kindness in her voice. I guessed that Edward Cullen had turned her down in the past and was not too nice about it, and she was warning me in a round-about way.

“Sounds like a real jerk,” I commented idly. “Or snobby, maybe? I mean, he can date or not date whomever he likes, but if that’s his reason I foresee a very lonely future for Edward Cullen.”

Jessica grinned. “Yeah, exactly. I mean, I asked him to the Spring Girl’s Choice Dance and the look he gave me. Like a ‘who do you think you are’ type thing and just walked away. I was like, you fine, but you’re not that fine.”

“A pretty face can only hide so much, right?” I added. I wasn’t going to right Edward Cullen off entirely until I met him in person, but Jessica had been really friendly. I didn’t have any reason to doubt her.

A few minutes later, the remaining Cullens (and Hales) left the table en masse, moving with enough grace, rigidity and arrogance to make a ballerina cry.

Lunch was over, but Jessica’s group lingered at the table long enough that I began to worry about being late. Fortunately, I was walked to my next class by Angela, friend of Jessica, who also had Biology II.

What followed was the most bewildering hour and a half of my life.

We were among the last to enter the classroom – a fairly standard affair with black topped lab tables facing a whiteboard – and Angela quickly went to her seat. Once Angela sat down next to her lab partner, every table was full but for one: Edward Cullen sitting alone in the center table. As I passed by him on my way to introduce myself to the teacher, he went rigid. Curious, I turned to look at him and was met by a gaze so filled with hate and anger it legitimately startled me. I stumbled, and my face went pale(r). A girl giggled and I flushed red.

Mr. Banner ( _first name Bruce?_ I mused) signed my slip, handed me a book and waved me towards the only empty seat with a bored expression. I wondered just how jaded a professor would have to be, to sit the new girl next to the homicidal-looking weirdo. And I knew this wasn’t all in my head, already I could see two of my peers glancing between Edward and me curiously.

Keeping my head down, I took my seat and watched him from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the edge of his chair and averting his face. He had his fist clenched against his left thigh, tendons standing out under his skin. I let my hair fall around me in a dark curtain and ostentatiously focused on the teacher, every part of my body announcing: _Look, see how unprovoking I am? If he attacks me it’s totally not my fault_.

We remained like that for the rest of the class; him unmoving and barely breathing, me fidgeting nervously. I had decided that he was most likely going to attack me sometime after class or school and was coming up with ways to prevent that. Now that I didn’t have his ‘brother’ to skew my perception, Edward Cullen loomed large and muscular. He could snap me like a twig, and was quite obviously considering it.

It didn’t occur to me to wonder why he felt like this until much later, or even to be afraid. Then again, I could count the number of times I’d ever felt genuine fear on one hand with several fingers cut off. My fight or flight response was skewed heavily towards ‘fight’ and I usually became angry rather than scared. Edward Cullen was pissing me off, but underneath the anger was something else, too. The reasons behind the mystery of Edward Cullen’s intense hatred for me was most likely disappointingly mundane but even so, I felt the thrill of anticipation run through me. This was different; this was _exciting_.  
Time seemed to warp, and before I knew it the bell had rung and Edward Cullen was out of his seat and half out the door.  
I lingered behind, not wanting to bump into him in the halls.

A boy approached my table.

“Aren’t you Isabella Swan?” he asked.

“Bella,” I answered, giving him a weak smile. He was cute, with spiky blond hair and a friendly face.

“I’m Mike.”

“Hi, Mike.”

“Do you need any help finding your next class?”

“I’m heading to the gym, actually. I think I can find it.” Eric had pointed it out to me this morning.

“That’s my next class, too.” He seemed thrilled.

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer and supplied most of the conversation. He was quite nice, to be honest. It wasn’t until we were within sight of the gym that he began to ask me about the Biology Debacle, as I’d decided to term it mentally.

“So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I’ve never seen him act like that.”

“I don’t know what I did; I never even spoke to him.”

“He’s a weird guy,” Mike assured me before we parted to go to our separate dressing rooms. “If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you.”

I gave him a shy smile, a bit flustered. Was he flirting with me?

Due to my uniform-less state, I was able to sit out today and before long I was trudging through the rain back to the front office. When I got there, I was so startled I nearly laughed. At the absurdity, if nothing else.

Edward Cullen was there, arguing with the reception in a low, panicked voice. He seemed to be asking to trade sixth period Biology to another time – any time. The coincidence was too much.

I stood in the back waiting patiently for my turn when the door opened again, letting in a blast of frigid air. A girl walked in, dropped a form on the counter, and walked right back out again. But Edward Cullen went as tense as if he’d touched a live wire. He turned – ever so slowly – to face me, and his absurdly handsome face was filled with fear, panic and such genuine hate that I sincerely worried for my life. He turned back to the receptionist.

“Never mind then,” he said hastily. “I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help.” And with that, he walked quickly out the door.

I went meekly to the desk and handed her the signed slip.

“How did your first day go, dear?” she asked me with concern.

Hmmm, how did it go? I hadn’t quite decided yet, and gave a soft “Fine,” so as to keep my options open. Best talk to Charlie before involving the school. She gave me a worried look.

The parking lot had cleared out a bit, and so I had no less trouble than I might otherwise have had maneuvering my beast of a truck through slick streets and poor visibility.

When I got home, there were two cars in the driveway.

Charlie had mentioned taking a half-day – to show me around town and buy anything I might need for school tomorrow, he’d said – so the police cruiser wasn’t a surprise. The other car, however, was. Black, sleek, and new was as much as I could say about it, my car knowledge being limited to ‘type and color’. I parked behind the cruiser, not wanting to block the stranger in.

Charlie was still in uniform, gun on his hip, and was leaning against the doorframe; casually and pointedly barring the other man from entering. Tall, blond and lean, he seemed to be slipping something into Charlie’s hand. As I got closer I could see his profile – his aquiline nose and pale, pale skin – and hear him say, “I’m glad we’re in agreement on this matter, Officer Swan.”  
Charlie just nodded curtly. It was enough for the other man, who turned to walk away. As he walked past, he gave me a slight smile.

“Afternoon, Bella,” he greeted warmly.

“Afternoon, Jasper.”


	2. Open Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I lied about updating next week. Writing this is surprisingly addictive. Also, here's where the plot diverges from canon, people!

“So, _Dad_ , how long have you been taking bribes?”

I was sitting on the kitchen table, leaning back on the palms of my hands and legs swinging freely, watching as Charlie took down from the top-shelf of a locked cupboard a jar labeled FOOD MONEY. It would be stuffed full of cash once Charlie deposited Jasper’s contributions.

He gave me a sidelong look, clearly conveying _I’m not amused, Bella_. It was a familiar look and I grinned. “Two, three years then, Dad? That’s about when the Cullens moved here, isn’t it? It’s also when you started taking me on trips during our summers together. I always thought those two-week California vacations were a bit rich for a cop’s salary.” I watched as the jar was put back in the cupboard and he turned to face me fully, leaning back against the counter directly across from me.

The look he gave me this time was dark and very, very familiar. I saw it most often in the mirror. It was the look of a man backed into a corner and trying to do the best he could. My grin softened, slightly. Although I was wondering vaguely when exactly my life had turned into a Hollywood drama, no part of me _condemned_ Charlie. My father was a good man, I knew that to be true. I also knew that sometimes good people have to do not so good things to survive and it was already pretty clear that the Cullens were dangerous. It was obvious from the look in Jasper’s eyes and the set of my father’s jaw. Charlie had been scared. Charlie was a cop, had been for twenty years now; it took a lot to scare him.

“You always were a very smart girl, Bells,” he said.

I leaned back even further, resting my elbows on the scarred wooden tabletop. “So what exactly are they paying you off for?” I asked. “Is Edward Cullen a serial killer? Is the Cullen backyard full of dead highschool girls he took a sudden and violent dislike to?” I was only half joking. Not that I doubted Edward Cullen was capable of it – not after the Biology Debacle and subsequent Office Reprisal – but I was sure that Charlie wouldn’t cover something like that up.

Despite my breezy and somewhat mocking tone, his eyes narrowed. “Did that Cullen boy give you a hard time?” he asked seriously.  
I took a moment to consider the question. “What would do you if I said yes?”

“Send you back to Phoenix,” he said promptly. At my incredulous look, he sighed again. “The Cullens are… dangerous, in ways that I don’t fully understand. It’s why I’ve been taking you to California rather than bringing you home for the summer, and why I almost turned you down when you asked to come live with me.” He raised a preemptory hand. “I don’t know much about what’s going on, but I know enough to realize that things are better that way.”

“So what you’re saying is that if I don’t stay away from the Cullens, you’ll ship me back to Renée?” I asked slowly.

“No,” he said carefully. “You’re damn near grown, Bella, and I trust you to make your own decisions. Besides, it’d be more than a bit hypocritical of me. And I know you, Bells; there’s no better way to get you to do something than to forbid it. I’m just laying out the facts so that at least you’re informed.” He smiled slightly. “So, will you tell your old man what happened today and stop him from worrying?”

“Nothing much, to be honest,” I sighed. “I was assigned to be Edward Cullen’s lab partner and he seemed pretty unhappy with that.”

“Hmm,” he nodded. “Well, let me know if you need me to talk to your teacher or anything. It’s what I’m here for.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I smiled. “So are you going to answer my question now, or leave me to worry?”

“Well, today it was truancy. Apparently one of the boys is going to take off for an unknown period of time and they’d appreciate it if I didn’t send a car over to make sure they haven’t killed him off.”

He said it lightly, but my eyes widened. “Is that likely?” I asked, remembering my thoughts during lunch. “I don’t think the Cullens treat their kids very well.”

“They are _not_ kids,” Charlie said emphatically. “I don’t know _what_ they are, but they aren’t what they claim to be. You saw Jasper, did he seem eighteen to you?”

To be honest, he hadn’t. If I’d seen a picture of him I could believe he was eighteen if that’s what you told me, I could also believe twenty-five. But seeing him in person? He had the attitude and confidence of a much older man. Even Edward, who didn’t look any older than I did, had treated the receptionist with the same condescension a rude business man would treat a busboy.

“Okay,” I said. “I see your point. But then why are they going to a _highschool_?” That is suspicious as all get out.

“I don’t know!” Charlie said, raking a hand through his hair. “Legally, they have every right to be there. On paper, they’re just regular teenagers and I can’t do a damn thing.” He took a deep breath. “ _Unofficially_ ,” he added carefully. “They don’t take any kids home. The Cullen boys don’t have playdates and the Cullen girls don’t have slumber parties. In exchange, I look the other way when it comes to things like truancy, or reports made by the school about odd or worrying behavior, as long as they aren’t violent. I think the money is just their way of incriminating me; I can’t turn them in without revealing that I’ve been taking bribes.” He had an expectant look on his face, like he was bracing himself for something. His unasked question hung between us: _can you stay here after knowing this Bella?_

I digested this in silence, then nodded. It was like I thought; Charlie was making the best of a bad situation. “Okay, I can accept that.” At his surprised look, I grinned. “You’re not the only one whose had to make some hard and not-so-legal decisions.”

He raised an eyebrow and was about to ask when my stomach interrupted the conversation.

“How about I tell you over dinner?”

He got an almost comical deer-in-the-headlights expression, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that housing a teenager meant having to cook. Given the amount of Styrofoam boxes in the fridge, I’d guess that Charlie lived off take-out, canned ravioli, eggs and bacon.

“Why don’t we take some of the FOOD MONEY and go to the diner?” he suggested. “We can go grocery shopping over the weekend.”

“Sure, just let me change. Hey, can we stop by the BestBuy on the way back? ‘Cause now that I know you’re flush with it, I’m going to need you to buy me a better computer.”

***

“So,” Charlie asked. “What made you want to come and live with your old man?”

We were ensconced in a corner booth of the fairly busy diner, waiting for Charlie’s burger and my club sandwich. I cast a quick look around to make sure no one was listening in (why yes, I am aware of how paranoid I am) and decided what to tell him. In the end, perhaps in deference to how open Charlie had been back at the house, I went with the truth.

“Phil.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “Coulson? Did that bas -,” he cut off mid swear. “ _Baseball player_ hurt you?”

“No, nothing like that, Dad,” I smiled slightly. “Just… It’s a bit of a long story. And related to the other story I owe you.”

Charlie sat back and motioned for me to go on. “We’ve got time, Bells.”

I took a deep breath, and let the whole story tumble out.

***

About four years ago Mom and I hit a bit of a rough patch. Renée was a teacher, but to be honest she’d probably spent more time getting her degree than she ended up using it. Working with kids sounded nice, sure, but the stress of being responsible for a dozen five-year olds wore her down quick. She quit teaching after five years and picked up work waitressing or bartending whenever she could. The first twelve years of my life were spent bouncing around between Grandma’s, Aunt Steph’s and Mom’s current boyfriend’s place, but that year we had a problem. I’d been doing the bookkeeping for two years by that point, so I was the first to know that there was no possible way for us to pay rent on the dinky little apartment we were staying in. Grandma was dead, Mom’s boyfriend of the week was a bum and Mom’s friends had a habit of disappearing whenever we were having money problems. So when our neighbor Mr. Steve offered me a hundred bucks to run a small errand for him, I was more than willing.

At this point in my narrative I stopped and looked at Charlie a trifle defiantly. The look he gave back was warm and steady; _fatherly_ , I guess you could say. It loosened the lump in my throat enough for me to keep going.

All I had to do, Mr. Steve had told me, was take this cardboard box, put it in my Tinker Bell book-bag, and take it to the park. A man in a red hat and black leather jacket would take it from me there. Could I do that for him, Mr. Steve wanted to know, and not tell _anybody_. He knew me and my momma were having troubles and, like a good neighbor, he wanted to help out, but I couldn’t tell _anyone_. If I did, I wouldn’t get the money and me and my pretty momma would be out on the streets.

As you’ve probably figured out, Mr. Steve was a drug dealer, and – as I later figured out – in a bit of a jam. Because the cops were closing in on Mr. Steve, and he knew that if he stepped outside that building he’d be ‘randomly’ stopped and frisked. Now the best thing for Mr. Steve to do would be to shut down his operation and lie low for a while, maybe dump the drugs, but he couldn’t afford to do that. Nor could he afford to get arrested, both for much the same reason. Because while Mr. Steve was a small-time operator, he knew the cops wanted him so that he could rat out his employers. Employers that, if they got wind of what was going on, might just kill Mr. Steve and be done with the whole mess. So yeah, Mr. Steve had a _dilemma_. And who should be next door but an innocent, little white girl in desperate need of rent money?

Our food arrived and by unspoken agreement we decided that I’d continue my monologue after dinner.

After, Charlie put his napkin on the empty plate and crossed his arms in front of him. “So for how long were you a drug mule?”

“Six months,” I said around a french-fry.

“Then how does this loop back to Phil,” he asked. I looked at him for a hard minute, wondering at his calm tone. He’d just heard that his daughter had, at twelve years old, done an incredibly dangerous and illegal thing for money. Looking into his eyes I realized. This wasn’t Charlie talking to his daughter; this was Officer Swan interrogating a witness. He had retreated behind a mask of professionalism and would probably keep it in place until we were away from prying eyes.

“Well, a few months ago I was looking through our finances and realized we didn’t have as much as I thought. Not enough to go to a good college.”

“ _Bella,_ ” Charlie sounded appalled. He’d obviously made the same logical leap I had two months back.

“ _What,_ ” I snapped, defensive. “I couldn’t get a loan, not with our credit history, and I didn’t know you had the money to spare,” and my stupid pride kept me from asking. “I didn’t want to stay in-state with mom and there aren’t any good schools within driving distance of Forks. I’d need to pay room and board on top of books and tuition.”

“You could have gotten a scholarship, Bella,” he said. He crossed in arms and gave me such a _parental_ look I almost smiled. Renée was my parent, but the only time I got any parent _ing_ was with Charlie.

“No, I couldn’t, Dad.” I’m smart, but selectively so. I do well in the areas I’m passionate about – art, history, literature – and dismally in the rest – math, science, gym. On top of that I didn’t even have any extra-curricular activities to fall back on; I’d spent all my ‘free’ time working. “So I went back to my old apartment, knocked on Mr. Steve’s door and offered to do a job for him.”

I paused to take a breath, looking down at the demolished remains of my sandwich. “Phil found the drugs. He said he didn’t want that stuff in his house, or near Renée. I’d either move out – he didn’t really care where – or he’d turn me in to the cops. So I went and moved in with you.”

“That was risky,” he commented. “So, Bella, are you _on_ any of the drugs?”

And _there_ was the fatherly disapproval. I grinned again, my not-so-nice baring-my-teeth grin. “No; or rather, not any of the ones Mr. Steve dealt. I don’t think pot grows very well in Forks.”

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered. “No illicit substances in the house, and if I smell any marijuana on you I’m taking away the laptop.”

“Alright, Dad. Anyway, I think I’ll need my wits about me in this town.”

***

The rain kept me up that night as well. As I lay there, cursing myself for forgetting to ask Charlie where to buy some damn earplugs, I heard a noise outside my window. It was a sharp _crack_ , like a branch had broken under the heavy rain. I got up to look out the window, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a blur of white.

It was probably just the moonlight reflecting off a puddle or some such nonsense, but after that I couldn’t go back to sleep. Instead, I went downstairs and – with the help of some bobby pins and a chair – spent an hour trying to pick the FOOD MONEY cabinet’s lock in the dark. After that, I counted the money, put it all back, re-locked the cabinet, rummaged through the fridge and had a bowl of cereal, then retreated to my bedroom and used my new laptop to flip through Iman Maleki paintings until I fell asleep.

***

The next day at school was better and worse than the last. Better, because I knew the general layout of the buildings, had people to sit with at lunch, and generally sure about what was expected from me. Worse, because I was so sleep-deprived-stupid that I forgot how to walk across wet pavement without falling. Seriously, Mike and Eric must have caught me from face-planting a half dozen times each. I was just glad that Charlie had to go in early to make up for taking a half day yesterday; the way I was acting, he would have thought I was stoned.

Such was my exhaustion, I didn’t even notice that Psycho-Edward was missing until Jessica pointed it out.

We were at lunch: Jessica and Angela trying to tempt Lauren into eating something, Mike sitting backwards in his chair and talking to Tyler at the next table, and I with my face planted onto the greasy table and arms trying to block out the cafeteria’s noise.

“Huh, Edward’s missing.”

“Alert the presses,” Angela snorted. “The Cullens are more often out of school than in.”

“Yeah, but it’s usually _all_ of them. When have you ever seen just one of them miss school before?” Jessica continued.

“Didn’t know you paid so much attention to what Cullen did, Jess,” Mike teased.

I looked up in time to see Jessica visibly blush; an impressive feat considering her deep brown skin. I remembered Jasper slipping Charlie an obscene amount of money for ‘truancy’ and doubted that we’d be seeing Edward Cullen again any time soon.

The rest of the school day passed uneventfully. I managed to convince an unhelpful Mr. Banner that since Edward was absent, and had been really hostile to me yesterday, to let me work with Angela and her lab partner Brenna Cheney on a trial basis. We were labeling slides on the stages of mitosis, and so had some time to talk as we worked. I learned that Brenna was Angela’s girlfriend.

Looking between a cringing Angela and a defiant Brenna, I said, “Cool. Why didn’t you sit with us at lunch?”

It broke the tension, at least, but the answer made me frown.

“Mike Newton doesn’t like me bringing my ‘gay shit’ to his table,” Brenna spat.

“It’s not that bad,” Angela rushed to say. “Brenna gets tutored by Eric over lunch.”

“What’s he tutoring you in?” I asked absently, peering down the microscope.

“English.”

“I think it’s prophase,” I offered, looking up from the instrument. “And the English here is the same as I did last year in Phoenix. I got an A in that, and I could use some extra cash. Ten dollars an hour okay?”

Brenna took the microscope from me to double check; I’d been wrong twice so far. “That’s actually pretty perfect, if we could do it before class. I really hate having to study during lunch, but Eric has chess before school and Video Productions Club after. It’s anaphase, by the way. I hope you’re better at Lit than you are at Biology.”

“What about Mike?” Angela asked as she wrote the (right) answer down.

“Mike can go hang,” I said with a feral grin. Angela looked taken aback. Brenna smiled.

All in all, a better day than yesterday.

***

After school I headed back home to drop off my things. I’d mentioned to Charlie about buying groceries and maybe some clothes over breakfast. He’d left an envelope on the counter labeled _pocket money_ with a note saying _this is your weekly budget, Bella. Buy food and then do whatever you want with the rest – Dad_. I opened it up and counted: $250. After groceries, I’d still have a good hundred. I decided to save it for the weekend and invite Jessica, Angela, Lauren and Brenna to the mall to help me get some good winter clothes.

I was at the Forks Outfitters and had finished all of my grocery shopping when it happened. I was in the pharmacy section picking up some earplugs when a deft hand plucked the package from my fingers.

“These are going to hurt your ears,” said a voice in bell-like tones.

It was the little Cullen; _Alice_ , I thought. Behind her, standing like a bodyguard was Jasper.

“Um, thanks?” I said. She beamed at me like I’d just hung the moon and stars.

“This will work _much_ better,” she said, handing me a box. It was a white noise machine.

“Thanks. How much does this co-”

“Well, we have to run!” she interrupted, leaning up on her tip-toes to press a cool kiss on my cheek. “Bye, Bella!”

“Bye, Alice. Afternoon, Jasper,” I added wryly.

“Afternoon, Bella,” he nodded, like a good Southern gentleman. He was probably just putting on the accent, but it sounded so natural I couldn’t help but suspect it was his real accent. That the rest of the time was a ruse and I was catching a glimpse of what lay beneath the white-marble mask.

They disappeared between one breath and the next. At the cashier, when I asked for a price check on the white noise machine, I was informed that it wasn’t from this store. When I Googled the name it turned out to be a high-end machine worth almost one hundred and fifty dollars that promised to ‘adapt to my environment’.

Saying that I was freaked out would be an understatement.


	3. Phenomena

I thought about the Cullens the whole way home.

 

After I emerged from the state of mellow bemusement that I always fell into when something bizarre or dangerous happened, my mind went straight to DEFCON 3. How had they known I’d been having trouble sleeping? Have the Cullens been following me? Did they put me under surveillance? _Did they have cameras in my room?_

 

It took me a few minutes to think about the situation rationally.

 

Even if they had put me under surveillance/bugged my room, I’d never mentioned my sleeping problems to anyone. Either they had a night-vision camera fixed above my bed, or they found out some other way. ‘Some other way’ headed into Steven King-esque robots, mind readers and the like. I shied away from the more outlandish theories my mind came up with and decided to run with the camera idea. When I got home I stripped my room, putting everything portable (including the white-noise machine) in a box to go in the basement, until all I had was a bed, a desk, and a rocking chair. I even put my laptop in the living room.

 

Then, I sat on my bed and started considering the ‘other ways’.

 

Telepaths (didn’t they need to be within a certain range to hear thoughts? That seemed logical; why would a telepath be outside my bedroom in the middle of the night?), Aliens (I don’t have any memory lapses and I haven’t been in any corn fields, so I doubt I’ve been abducted by a UFO), Robots (could have hacked into my computer and saw me google ‘ways to block out rain’), Wizards (it’s magic, they don’t have to explain it), Clairvoyants (could see the future, so would know what I planned to do and that the earplugs wouldn’t work), Prophets (had a vision of me needing a white noise machine. Why, though?). I considered them all. In the end, I decided that the best thing to do would be to wait.

 

 If there was a supernatural reason behind the Cullens, I’d need more proof than just ‘ _Alice gave me an expensive gift of something I really needed.’_ The thing was, I was pretty sure Charlie would believe me. The problem was that I didn’t really believe it myself. Humans have the unenviable ability to doubt their own perceptions if they don’t fall in line with what we expect. The supernatural wasn’t real, therefore what Alice did couldn’t be supernatural. She probably just had the white-noise machine as a coincidence and gave it to me on a whim. Or she saw how tired I was today and made a logical leap as to why. I could almost convince myself of that. If I told Charlie, it opened up the possibility that I was _right_. That the Cullens were more than just some rich weirdos. That some of the fundamental assumptions I made every day were wrong. Also, I had the feeling that Charlie would flip out if he found out I was being maybe-stalked by a Cullen. I didn’t want to lie to him, though, even by omission. He’d been so open with me, treating me like an _adult_ , that I didn’t want to prove him wrong. I decided to sit on the information for a while. I’d give them the rest of the week to do something to confirm or deny my suspicions, use the weekend to process it, and tell Charlie what I found on Monday. Unless they did anything threatening; then I’d tell Charlie immediately.

 

***

The rest of the school week passed uneventfully, the most interesting thing being Brenna Cheney sitting with us at lunch. I’d warned Jessica beforehand in Spanish – she’d asked about Brenna’s tutoring with Eric and was righteously pissed off when she heard what Mike had said. Mike had blustered a bit when she sat down with us and had sat with Tyler and his gang for the rest of the week. Lauren had been stand-offish, but I was quickly coming to realize that that’s how she was with everyone. In any case, she warmed up to Brenna faster than she did to me. Brenna herself was cool, worked hard during tutoring in the mornings and was an expert at bringing out the rare moments of snark in Angela.

 

At home things were pretty normal, Charlie and I fell into a comfortable routine and even sat down to divvy up the household chores.

 

That is, until Friday, when we adopted a three-legged German Shepard.

 

I got a call from Charlie asking me if I minded having a dog in the house at 5 am on Friday. Officer Weber had taken the night off, her twin boys were sick, and Charlie had to cover the night shift for her.

 

“Wait, why is the _Chief of Police_ getting called in to cover someone’s shift at 9 o’clock on a Thursday?” I had asked him.

 

“Have you seen the size of the precinct, Bells? The janitor is also the receptionist; Chief of Police is just what they pay me for.”

 

Nearly six hours later some poor bastard ran over a dog and rushed him to the emergency room. They were going to send him away – the animal was nearly dead by that point – when who should step in but Dr. Carlisle Cullen? A hot-shot surgeon who now spent his days treating broken arms and frostbite, Dr. Cullen had apparently jumped at the chance to exercise his abilities. The dog had emerged from the OR with his life, but not with one of his hind legs.

 

For lack of anywhere else to take him, the dog ended up being released into the custody of Forks Police Department. An exhausted Charlie – who was edging near 22 hours awake – dropped the dog off with me and muttered something about ‘getting it its stuff after a nap’. After some quick googling, I set the dog up with some blankets, made it a breakfast of scrambled eggs and plain oatmeal, and went to school pondering the fact that the only time the dog had tried to attack anyone was when Dr. Cullen got too close.

 

All thoughts of Fluffy, however, where driven from my mind when I got to school.

 

***

 

Edward was back from his little vacation.

 

I caught a glimpse of him in the parking lot and promptly spent the rest of the day worrying about him. It was silly – if I was going to worry about a Cullen it should be Alice or Jasper Hale – but I didn’t get the same level of danger off of them as I did Edward. Alice and Japer had at least seemed rational; there was nothing to reason with in Edward’s hate filled stare.

 

My day got even better when, during English, the temperature dropped. The walk to lunch was colder than Cocytus, the ninth circle of hell, and the snow made everything slick, making the path to lunch my own personal hell. Mike ran off to get into a snowball fight with Eric as I carefully walked to the warmth of the cafeteria.

 

Inside, I tried to distract myself, chatted with Jessica about some beach trip Mike wanted to put together, but all through lunch I was aware of _his_ eyes on me. Strangely, when I glanced at him his expression was just mild curiosity. Then again, the rage-glare hadn’t come out until Biology last time, either. That wasn’t the only difference in behavior, though. The Cullens were _interacting_ with each-other. Emmett was shaking his head like a dog, spraying his girlfriend and sister with snow-melt. The other boys were laughing while the girls cringed in mock fear. It was the most human I’d ever seen them. But it was still eerie: too picturesque, like a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. I’d always hated his work.

 

Biology was strangely anti-climactic as well. Mr. Banner made me go back to sitting with Cullen, since he was back from his ‘vacation’. I braced myself for another bizarre, nerve-wracking hour, but Edward simply nodded at me and turned his attention to Mr. Banner’s stunningly dull monologue. After class, instead of bolting out of his seat like last time, Edward turned to me and said, “Hello, I’m Edward Cullen. You must be Bella Swan.”

 

I wanted to ask how he knew to call me Bella, considering that he was absent the three days I’d spent correcting people. I was named for two things: Bella Bella Island, where Charlie proposed to my mom, and Renée’s mother, Isabella. I much preferred being the namesake to a picturesque isle than a disagreeable old woman who wouldn’t know kindness if it bit her. I guessed Jasper must have told him.

 

I was about to (inanely) comment on this when something else caught my eye. “Did you get contacts?”

 

The look on his face was a visual record scratch. It almost made me feel guilty, as if my mouth had spouted out some utter nonsense or an inappropriately intimate comment without my consent. I wanted to flush and look down, to take back the question. The feeling was so strong, and strange, that it brought my chin up and added a renewed stubbornness to my expression.

 

Edward looked even more shocked, a feat I would not have thought possible mere seconds before. “Um, no I didn’t. My eyes have always been this color,” he said calmly. He had a very nice voice, almost musical…

 

I shook my head roughly. Something odd was going on. I wrenched my eyes from Edward’s dazzling face and quickly stored my things in my book bag.  “Okay, you’re eyes have always been a bright yellow-brown. Amber? No, ochre, that’s it. Your eyes have always been ochre and not the same dark-almost black I thought they were on Monday. Okay,” I babbled and quickly slung my bag over my shoulder and rushed out of the room.

 

I was distracted for the rest of the day, worse than usual in gym I either got hit by the ball or hit my teammates with it, and in the parking lot I nearly rear-ended Tyler in his Toyota Corolla. The problem was – of course – Edward Cullen. The thought of our conversation in Biology kept trying to … slip out of my head. I could barely remember what we were talking about. I almost speeded home and was running after I unlocked the front door, sprinting to the basement, ignoring Unnamed Dog’s barks. I rummaged through the boxes I’d stored down there until I found what I needed: an old journal, the kind that had a lock. The key came on a thin chain bracelet, sized for a tween girl.

 

I rushed upstairs, slammed my door close and drew the blinds, then threw myself on the bed. Unlocking the small book, I flipped past pages filled of my pre-adolescent whining. Then I began to write, grasping the slippery eel like memory and pinning it to the page.

_Talking to E.C. Noticed something different about him. Hair? No, eyes. Contacts? No, he didn’t have contacts, he said that. I think. But his eyes were a different color. Florescent light could do that. Just because the Cullens are odd doesn’t mean everything about them are._

_No, I’m thinking about this the wrong way. Why is it so hard to remember? It shouldn’t be… That means it has to be important_

 

I grimaced a bit; there was something faulty about my logic. I decided to write down everything I knew about Edward Cullen.

 

_Face like Mario Minniti in Caravaggio’s The Musicians, bronze hair and eyes of indeterminable color. Took an intense hatred to me, a three day absence from school, then returned with… different eyes and utterly normal behavior._

 

I paused, then something occurred to me. I wrote it down quickly, without self-editing.

 

_Bruises under eyes and chalk white skin. Seems flawless and perfect in person, but these things are still true. Flaws hard to remember when near him (them? Test with all Cullens, maybe?)_

I looked down at the page with an inordinate amount of accomplishment. The color of Edward Cullen’s eyes slipped entirely from my head, but that didn’t matter because I’d _written it down_. Not only that, but I’d written the entire thing in mirror writing. I’d learned the skill when I was eleven and had learned that Da Vinci had done it, as well as the fact that he’d been left-handed, like me. I broke the thin chain and slipped the key onto the long necklace Rosa had given me as a parting gift.

 

I locked the small, obscenely pink journal. The lock was fragile, I could break it myself, but it was so tiny it’d be impossible to pick without specialized tools. I’d know immediately if someone tried to open it.

 

Charlie knocked on my door before pushing it open. He was dressed in civilian clothes and had an overnight bag at his feet.

 

“I’m heading up to the reservation to go fishing with Billy and Harry. Would you like to come with me?” he asked. I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to say yes or not.

 

I considered it briefly. “Is Beck going to be there?” I hadn’t seen him since before he transitioned. We’d talked on the phone, but it’d be nice to see him in the flesh.

 

“No, Beck’s with Emily Young, helping her pack up. She’s going to be staying down here for a while to help with Leah’s wedding.” I remembered Emily, she and Leah Clearwater used to play with us during the summers.

 

“Leah’s getting married?” I asked.

 

“Yeah, to Sam Uley. Emily’s her maid of honor you know, she’s going to be staying at the Clearwater’s.” I smiled slightly; I hadn’t known Charlie was so up to date with the Quileute gossip. “So, are you coming?”

 

“Sorry, Dad, I made plans with Jessica and the girls.” We were going to the mall on Saturday.

 

“You fine staying here alone, then?” A trace of concern crept into his tone. I nodded at him. He turned to go, then paused at the door. “I’m glad that you’re making friends here, Bella.”

 

“Thanks, Dad. I am too.” He nodded at me. “By the way, I got most of the dog’s things; the food and bedding and its pills and such. I didn’t want to name him without you so you’ll have to get it its tags while I’m gone.”

 

“Okay, Dad. Have fun.”

 

The rest of the weekend passed well enough. The mall was fun, Jessica was great at shopping on a budget, Lauren knew a surprising amount about the science behind advertisement, and Brenna and Angela were adorable. I did homework, laundry and general cleaning on Sunday for lack of anything else to do.

 

Monday dawned dim and miserable. The sidewalks had iced over in the night; it was bad enough I went inside to ask Charlie to see if school was canceled. It wasn’t.

 

I fall down a lot. It’s not something I liked to bring up often, mainly because there was little point to it. When you fall down, you get up and ice the bruises later, that’s what life had taught me. I’d gotten very good at treating bruised tailbones, scraped palms and knees and twisted ankles. This was all during optimal conditions, not slippery-slick ice. I’d only fallen four times since I’d gotten to Forks, a combination of my having a car and not having to walk everywhere, being extra careful due to the rain, and having two male friends who seemed ever-poised to catch me. I had a feeling I’d double my fall count today alone.

 

I considered calling in sick, but ultimately decided against it. I was one week in and couldn’t afford to miss class. So I bucked up, put on my shoes with the most traction, and headed out the door.

 

It took every ounce of my concentration to make it down the icy brick driveway without falling. I almost lost my balance when I finally got to the truck, but I managed to cling to the side mirror and steady myself. Clearly, today was going to be nightmarish.

 

I drove slowly and carefully to school, cursing the negligent school board for forcing me to attend class on a day like today. My truck didn’t handle as well on the icy roads, making it a white-knuckled trip. Still, I thankfully didn’t skid once; I didn’t think my nerves could have handle it.

 

Once I arrived at school – the only other car near me was the Cullen’s despite it not being that early – I saw the reason why. Someone had put snow chains on my tires. I inched over, gripping the truck with one hand, to examine them. My first thought was a rush of gratitude towards Charlie for getting up so early to do this for me, quickly followed by confusion. Charlie had woken up _after_ me, stumbling into the kitchen still in his pajamas, and had gotten in late last night. There would have been no time for him to have done this.

 

As I stood there contemplating the Great Chain Mystery, a screeching noise filled the air. Two things happened concurrently and quickly:

 

     A blue van was skidding, spinning wildly, careening towards me. My legs locked in place, rendering ddme immobile. I didn’t even have time to brace myself before the sound of metal slamming into metal ddbecame deafening.

 

     I was bowled over to the ground by something solid and my head bounced painfully against the icy ddblacktop. I screamed; from pain, from fear, from shock.

 

“Fuck,” the word startled me. Someone was on top of me. I opened my eyes and tried to blink away the ringing noise.

 

Edward. Edward Cullen was there. But hadn’t he been… somewhere else? Not here?

 

Hard hands were gripping my shoulders. “Bella, Are you all right?"

 

"I'm fine." My voice sounded strange. I tried to sit up, and realized he was holding me down, keeping my head immobile.

 

"Be careful,” he warned as I struggled. "I think you hit your head pretty hard, you shouldn’t try to move it.”

 

"How in the . . ." I trailed off. Everything felt a bit vague. "How did you get over here so fast?" I looked at his concerned, innocent expression and was disoriented again by the force of his eyes. What was I asking him?

 

There was a dent the shape of Edward’s elbow in the blue van. There was another the size of his palm in my truck.

 

"I was standing right next to you, Bella," he said. I could hear voices in the distance.

 

"You were over there.” Somewhere. Oh yeah, "You were by your car."

 

His expression turned hard. "No, I wasn't."

 

"I saw you." At the moment I had no idea what or why I was arguing, but I was filled with the stubborn determination of a child. I was right and he had to admit it.

 

"Bella, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." He unleashed the full, devastating power of his eyes on me. He was so beautiful, so dazzling. He looked like Narcissus by the lake or…

  

I tried to shake my head, and ended up crying out in pain. My head felt clearer though. I looked back up at him, straight into those eyes. "No."

 

He looked, once again, shocked.

 

 _His eyes are gold_ , was my last thought before everything went a bit hazy.

 

***

The next several hours were spent in a sort of fog.

 

It took six EMTs to shift the cars enough so that the paramedics could reach us. The parking lot was filling up by then, so I was wheeled across a sea of curious and worried faces. Charlie arrived before the ambulance left, to my vague relief.

 

He drove ahead to the hospital in my almost entirely undamaged truck. Edward Cullen somehow convinced the paramedics to let his siblings drive him to the hospital. Remembering those hypnotic, golden eyes, it didn’t seem that mysterious as to how he managed that.

 

Charlie was silent when we got to the hospital, only speaking to ask if I was alright with him coming in to see the doctor with me. Renée would have been screaming at the nurses or bombarding me with questions by that point; the silence was almost unnerving.

 

Dr. Carlisle Cullen was as stunning as his children, and looked to be not much older than them, either. He was professional, with the cold hands all doctors have, and diagnosed a Grade 1 concussion. I was given some Tylenol and told to go home and rest, and to return if I suffered from any vomiting or fainting.

 

Before we left, Dr. Cullen took Charlie aside and spoke to him in low tones.

 

Outside, Charlie told me to wait for him while he got the car. “I don’t want you walking more than necessary, Bella.”

 

While he was gone I was approached by – you guessed it – Alice Cullen and her ever-present shadow, Jasper. They really were a stunning pair, like… like some painting or other. Everything was a bit too shiny for me to remember.

 

“Bella!” She ran forward to carefully embrace me. The top of her head came up to the tip of my nose. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

 

“Thanks, Alice,” I patted her awkwardly on the back until she released me. “I’m fine; you’re dad just checked me out.”

 

Something flashed across her elfin face. She turned to give Jasper a significant look and he stepped closer to me, taking my hand in his.

 

“Bella,” he said musically, “I’d like to do something now. It should clear up some of the… haze you feel right now, but I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”

 

 I nodded dumbly, unable to resist him. He let out a sweet-smelling breath and…

 

I felt a jolt of clarity and energy surge through me. Suddenly, Alice and Jasper did not seem like the two most beautiful creatures in the world and Jasper’s hands holding mind felt unutterably invasive. I took a step back. And a deep breath.

 

I ran through a quick mental exercise I’d devised a bit after I was befuddled by Edward in Biology. Alice was thin to the point of emaciation and had gaunt cheeks. Jasper’s nose bordered on beaky. They both had chalk white skin and purple-bruised eyes. Their eyes were a dark gold. I nodded; my mind seemed to be my own again.

 

“What the hell was that?” A part of me, a large part of me, wanted to blame it on the concussion. The rest of me pointed out that concussions do not get magically healed by having Jasper lay his hands on you.

 

Alice sighed. “We can’t tell you… yet. Come back to us after you see the dogs. Oh and Bella? Remember the tire chains.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, werewolves!  
> Also, hi one person who's following this!


	4. Scary Stories

“So what did Dr. Cullen tell you before we left?”

 

Charlie shrugged, shooting me an almost _suspicious_ look. I stared, then noticed his eyes; they were glassy. I blew out a long breath of relief and irritation. Relief that _Charlie_ hadn’t turned on me, irritation that I had to deal with _this_ now. “That you might have some… distorted memories of what happened, Bella. He said that Edward told him you were raving nonsense.”

 

“Dad, what do you think of Dr. Cullen?” I made sure a little disdain slipped into my tone. Sure enough, he went on a tear.

 

“People in this town! Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he does here. We’re lucky to have him!”

 

I gave a philosophical nod. “Okay, so answer me this: why does he have several ‘children’ masquerading as teenagers who go to a _highschool_ and bribe you to stay out of their way? Also, what color are his eyes?”

 

Charlie looked like I’d just slapped him. Then, he gave a full-body shudder. “What the…” His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, his instincts fighting the logical part of his brain.

 

“Yeah, I know,” I told him. “That’s not all.” As we drove home I told him everything: of Alice and the white noise machine, Edward’s impossible speed and strength, my growing conviction that the Cullens had some hypnosis power, the way Jasper had snapped me out of it just like I did for Charlie. “They make you… like them. Trust them, think they’re right, and perfect, and too important for us to bother. I figured reminded you of the reasons why they _aren’t_ those things – perfect or right – might break the spell. And it worked,” I finished a trifle smugly.

 

Charlie let out an explosive breath and made an abrupt U-turn.

 

“What are you doing?” I asked, clutching my seat.

 

“Going to La Push. Billy Black has some explaining to do.”

 

***

 

I tried to get Charlie to say more, but he was biting mad and disinclined to talk. Eventually I gathered that Billy knew more about the Cullens than he’d said.

 

Charlie stormed up the Black driveway only to stumble on a screaming, vase-throwing domestic.

 

Sarah Black had, while she lived, been a pillar of the community. Member of the Quileute Council for countless years running, her door had always been open and she’d been ever-ready to offer advice, a listening ear, or to mediate any disputes. Even after her death the Black house was seen as the place where everyone was welcomed, a feeling Billy – lonely in his grief and overwhelmed with three motherless children – had greatly encouraged. Surprisingly it was Beck who at fourteen had stepped up to fill his mother’s long vacant role. Everyone went to Beck when they needed help, something which he’d told me had given him the courage to finally come out as trans.

 

All this is to say that the sight of Emily Young and Sam Uley screaming at each other until they were red in the face on Billy’s front stoop was not as surprising as it might have been.

 

We drove up slowly. I glanced at Charlie and saw him put away his anger in favor of the familiar Officer Swan professionalism. He got out of the car; I stayed in the passenger seat. I watched as he slowly approached the couple, hands outstretched, saying, “Now why don’t we all just –”

At that point the argument seemed to reach the boiling point and Emily lunged forward, changing between a blink of the eye into a pale brown wolf.

 

Charlie startled, drawing his gun. I leaped out of the car and rushed forward. Sam Uley turned into a giant black beast.

 

The two animals locked jaws, growling. The wolf that used to be Sam lashed out with claws extended, nearly taking out his opponent’s eye. Emily let out a pained cry and surged forward with renewed strength, lifting them both onto their hind legs.

 

Just then, a figure darted out of the Black house.

 

“The two of you stop that _this instant!_ ” cried Leah Clearwater in a strident voice.

 

The wolves disengaged. I’d almost say they looked surprised. Leah threw a bundle at them and said, “Change and get dressed so that we can discuss this like the _sane_ and _rational_ people I’d been laboring under the delusion you were.”

 

Charlie and I walked forward, our eyes darting between Leah and a very naked Sam and Emily as they pulled on some shorts. Leah’s eyes widened when she was us.

 

“Officer Swan,” she said, like a little girl caught by her mother with her hand in the cookie jar. “Bella, how nice to see you.”

 

***

 

In the end, the seven of us – Leah, Emily, Sam, Beck, Billy, Charlie and I – ended up in the kitchen. Emily was at the sink cleaning up the three, bloody claw marks marring her cheek, Sam hovering anxiously behind her. I had slipped into my state of shock induced calm bemusement and was sitting at the kitchen table between Leah and Billy in his wheelchair. Charlie was furiously pacing.

 

“And you didn’t think this was something I should know?” Charlie demanded, addressing Billy. “After ten years, you still didn’t think you could –”

 

“It’s one of the things I would have told you if you’d just –” Billy’s interruption was interrupted by Charlie loudly talking over him.

 

“I have a _commitment_ to Forks and I just can’t _abandon_ it,” he says hotly. It sounds like an old argument. At the counter I hear Beck sigh ‘ _here we go again’_. I’d definitely missed something.

 

I raised two fingers to my mouth and whistled loudly. It was almost comical how everyone’s heads snapped towards me. “I’m feeling a bit lost here. Also, _ten_ years, Dad? Haven’t you known Billy for like, twice that?”

 

Billy’s eyes flashed; he looked… hurt. “It seems like I’m not the only one keeping secrets, Charlie,” he murmured. Charlie turned away, chagrined. Billy turned back to me and said, “Yes, Bella, your father and I have known each other for nearly nineteen years. However, for the last _ten_ years we’ve been in a relationship. A fairly serious one, or so I’d been led to believe.”

 

Charlie whirled around. “That’s not fair,” he snapped.

 

“Is it? I’m not the one who didn’t tell my _family_ about us,” Billy said. I wondered idly how we got from ‘werewolves are real’ to ‘domestic dispute’ in under ten minutes.

 

“Well you didn’t tell me that your goddaughter’s fiancé can turn into a damned _wolf,_ ” he said, bringing us back to the topic at hand.

 

“Yeah, about that,” I leaned forward towards Sam and Emily, who were still by the sink silently watching the two men’s argument. I wanted to ask them a hundred things. In the end I settled for an open ended, “What the hell, guys?”

 

“Should we call the rest of the council?” Sam asked Billy. He sighed and shook his head.

 

“No, with the amount of time Charlie spends here, I was going to have to tell him eventually, especially with Beck turning. And Bella practically grew up here; she’s almost family. They can be trusted.” My heart couldn’t help but warm a bit at his words.

 

From beside me, Leah snorted. “As if that was ever in doubt. Didn’t you already petition the council to let you tell Officer Swan, old man?” She turned to Emily. “You’re the historian, you tell the hókʷat’.” Hókʷat’ was one of the few words of Quileute I knew; it meant non-Indian, and had been affectionately thrown my way many times before.

 

Emily grinned and walked over, pulling up a chair and straddled it, resting her chin on the chair back. The wounds on her face had already scabbed over, despite having looked very deep only moments before. “Long, long ago, during the time of Chief Taha Aki, the Quileute people faced a threat unlike any before. Columbus had ‘discovered’,” she gave the word a sarcastic emphasis, “the Americas, though his people wouldn’t meet ours for some time yet. With him came something else, and humans wouldn’t be the first White faces we saw.”

 

Emily looked at me, face serious. “Our history stretches back to the dawn of this world, so far that parts of it are dismissed as inventions. I’ll be the first to admit that things get lost in oral traditions, but what I’m about to tell you is recent enough, and detailed enough, that I believe it whole-heartedly.”

 

I nodded. As if I was going to disbelieve her because it might sound ridiculous. She had just turned into a fucking wolf. “That’s good enough for me.”

 

Emily looked at me for a long moment before continuing. “They histories call them monsters in human form. They preyed on others, their victims found either dead, drained of blood and covered in teeth marks, or dazed and bleeding from knife wounds with no memories of what had happened to them. We named them – well, literally it would be Cold Ones, but it’s generally translated as Vampire.” Emily shot me another look, probably worried about how I was taking this insane tale. I just nodded, still pondering the ‘ _dazed… no memories’_ part. It sounded frighteningly familiar. Emily continued, her voice taking on the cadence of recitation.

 

“Taha Aki prayed to the gods for a way to fight these monsters, since they were faster and stronger than any Quileute warrior. Báyaķ, the trickster Raven, answered him. He swore to make Taha Aki and two of his best warriors, Yut and Yaha Uta, as strong and as fast as these vampires, so that the Quileute people could be safe once more. However, because Báyaķ was wily, he did not simply give them the strength they needed, but instead gave them the ability to turn into wolves. Taha Aki and his two companions who were bigger, faster, and stronger than regular wolves, fought off the Cold Ones and made the tribe safe again. It’s from Taha Aki that we get the first description of the vampires. They were like corpses, with skin as cold and white as the snow. The eyes of the cold ones was apparently a matter of dispute, some describing their eyes as red, others as black. Not a brown-black like our eyes, mind you, but an unnatural night-black.” Emily paused, and I digested this in heavy silence.

 

Beck coughed, and said, “There’s a bit more to the story, Em.”

 

Emily turned and bizarrely shot Sam a glare before continuing. “The three warriors weren’t the only ones changed. Since Báyaķ had turned their souls into that of wolves’, it affected others. The other part of the warrior’s souls, their soulmates, if you will, also became as that of wolves’. When Yut and Yaha Uta returned to the village and laid eyes on their wife and spearbrother respectively, they triggered the change in them. We call it imprinting.”

 

A light went off in my head, and suddenly the fight outside made a bit more sense. I looked between Sam, Emily and Leah. “So that’s what’s going on with you; Sam and Emily are both werewolves because you’re… soulmates?” My eyes darted to Leah, who surprisingly did not look that upset.

 

“Despite the fact that I _did not ask for this_ ,” Emily was shouting at the ceiling, as if to address the gods that had done this to her. “I did not _ask_ to become a fucking _wolf_ or to break up my best friend’s _marriage_ and have her _hate me_!” It might have been a trick of the light, but in that moment I would have sworn that Emily’s teeth and fingernails elongated. Beck rushed over to put a calming arm around Emily’s shoulders.

 

“Who said anything about breaking up my marriage?” Leah asked mildly. Everyone turned to look at her; Emily cocked her head like a dog. “Sam, do you still love me?”

 

“I,” Sam looked confused and lost, but when he looked at Leah his face softened. “Of course I do. The last five years didn’t just disappear. But…”

 

“But you also love Emily,” she finished for him. “Has the concept of _sharing_ not occurred to either of you?” Leah reached up to grasp a bewildered, but more human looking Emily’s hand. “You’re my best friend.” She turned to Sam and grabbed his hand as well. “And you are the love of my life, imprint or no. I think between the three of us we can figure something out. Now why don’t we go and stop airing our dirty laundry in poor Billy’s kitchen?” She got up and led them out the door. As they left she said, “Oh, and the wedding is still on. The two of you get your magical werewolf bullshit; I get to be Mrs. Uley.”

 

They left. I turned to Charlie, Billy and Beck, “Well that was bizarre. Dad, why don’t we get to the reason why you drove us out here in the first place?

 

Charlie was a bit zoned out; he startled and shook himself when I addressed him. I guessed that the revelation of _werewolves_ affected him more than he was willing to show. “Right. Billy, you’ve been hinting that the Cullens were bad news since they moved here. I want to know why.”

 

Billy looked up at him. “Why? Have they done something to you?” he asked, voice deadly.

 

“Sort of,” I said, and told them everything. About the Cullens’ weird behavior and appearance, Edward’s sudden dislike of me, Jasper’s visit to our house. The last led to a brief argument between Charlie and Billy about Charlie being ‘reckless’ for ‘associating’ with them and Charlie saying that he’d been protecting the town the best he could with the information he had available, _Billy._ I went on to tell them about Edward briefly dazzling me in Biology to forget the color of his eyes, Alice’s white noise machine, the tire chains – which Charlie confirmed that he did _not_ put on, though he should have – Edward’s impossible rescue and subsequent dazzling, which had led to Jasper fixing me and my putting some of the pieces together enough to un-dazzle Charlie.  

 

When I’d finished, Beck spoke up. “Sam and Emily should’ve stayed for this,” he frowned.

 

Billy shook his head. “Boy will be useless until he gets things sorted out, and Emily is going to be on a hair trigger until she gets more accustomed to the change. You saw her,” Billy said, looking at his son. “And I know my own history as well as she does.”

 

“So you _do_ know what’s going on with the Cullens?” I asked.

 

“Yes,” Billy said. “Unfortunately, we can’t reveal that to anyone outside of the tribe.”

 

Before I could build up a head of steam at this, Beck snorted. “It’s not like we’re running around the streets of Forks shouting it, we’re telling the Swans. If they ask, we can make a pretty good case for it, I mean half the tribe already refers to Charlie as _your husband.”_ From his position in the center of the room, Charlie went a bit red. _“_ But I don’t think they’ll challenge us on this. They’ve been pretty indiscreet themselves.”

 

Billy nodded slightly and rolled into the living room, motioning for us to follow him. He went to the bookshelf and removed a large photo album. “We only gain the ability to change during times of great need. A bit over a hundred years ago, my grandfather Ephraim Black turned, as did his sister Deborah Black, Ellen Longtree and her imprint Levi Uley, and the sibling imprints Quil Ateara II and Amelia Ateara. It was the largest pack in our history.”

 

“Sibling imprints?” I asked, not quite understanding what he meant.

 

“Imprints are not always romantic in nature, it simply means that they... complete each other. One needed the other to be the person they were, and vice versa. There have been cases of imprints being like brother and sister, or two spearbrothers imprinting and sharing their homes and wives together, even one man – Hank Wilde – imprinting on an orphaned infant and raising her like a daughter.” My eyes widened. Hank Wilde was the name of Beck and Rachel’s grandfather; the orphaned girl must have been Sarah Wilde, Billy’s late wife. “Quil and Amelia were twins, and together the fiercest fighters in the pack.” He carefully removed a photo from the album and passed it to me.

 

I took it, and Charlie came over to look over my shoulder. It had been laminated at some point. It was an old, black and white photo of a group of young men and women on a beach, sepia toned with age. Six of the people were dressed for a hot summer in short pants, no shoes, and the men were shirtless. The other four were wearing conservative clothing, long pants and skirts, jackets and shawls. I flipped it over. On the back, in spindly handwriting it said:

                                                _First Beach with Ephraim and Martha, Levi and Ellen, Debbie and Susie, Quil and Lucy,_ _Amelia and ~~Clearwater~~_ ** _Edmund (call him by his name, Dora)_**

_\- Dorothy Black, 12/21/1902_

**_\- and Amelia Ateara Clearwater_ **

 

Billy took the photograph from me and placed it back in the album with care. “Ephraim was puzzled as to why so many were called to protect the pack. Then, one day his pack ran across a coven of Cold Ones, more than we had ever encountered before. We were evenly matched, but the vampires claimed they did not want to fight. They were unlike others of their kind, did not drink from humans, and pointed to their gold eyes as proof. They were planning on living in Forks for a time, before moving on. Ephraim didn’t trust them and wanted to fight them off, but Ellen Longtree, who was the Alpha Female, did not want to fight. She went back to the tribe council and called for a vote. In the end it was decided to treaty with the vampires; they wouldn’t kill or change any humans or set foot on Quileute land, and in turn we would let them live here and keep their secret.” He turned to another page in the album, showing me what appeared to be the treaty in question. “It’s a copy. The original is kept by the tribe council.”

 

I looked it over. At the bottom of the page were four signatures: Chief Richard Clearwater, Ephraim Black, Ellen Longtree, and Carlisle Cullen.


	5. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight Trigger Warnings in this one. See the end notes for it.

Behind me, Charlie let out a sharp breath. His gasp must have sucked all the air from the room, because abruptly I couldn’t breathe. I ran from the room, tripped as I exited the house and landed hard on my ass. I didn’t get up, just leaned back onto my elbows and tried to breathe. Inside, I could hear Charlie and Billy continued their argument of ‘ _But you should have told me/But you should have trusted me’._  Their voices got fainter and fainter as they moved deeper into the house and were cut off completely by the click of a door.

 

“Here,” Beck said, as he pressed a cold glass into my hands. “You looked like you could use some sugar and caffeine. I had to break this out of the secret stash we hide from dad.”

 

I took it with a smile as a bolt of sad anger shot through me. Three years ago I would of known about the secret soda stash, would have helped find hiding spaces and surreptitiously smuggle cans into the house. But because of the damn Cullens I’d spent my summers in sunny California while Sam Uley turned into a _wolf._

 

I sipped at the soda, and was immediately surprised by how thirsty I was. Beck sat down next to me.

 

“So, how are you feeling?” At my raised eyebrow, he continued. “You’ve had a big day: car accident, attempted mind control, learning that vampires and werewolves are real. How’re you feeling?”

 

I looked down; my hands were trembling. “Angry. I feel really, really angry.”

 

“At us?”

 

“No. Yes. Maybe?” I gave a helpless shrug. “At everyone, really,” at Beck for never having mentioned this during the many phone conversations we’d had over the past three years, at the Quileutes for having kept such an enormous, world-changing secret, at the Cullens for the way they made everything infinitely complicated, at myself for having wished for ‘excitement’. “My life used to make sense,” I whined.

 

We sat in silence for a bit longer. Eventually, Charlie came back out looking harried and we left.                            

 

That night my sleep was filled with dreams of giant wolves chasing each other and the Cullens who glowed eerily in the darkness.

I went downstairs to make myself some cereal and ended up on the couch cuddling Unnamed Dog and watching late-night TV. It was a mite tricky heaving him on to the couch, but worth it for how he licked my hand in gratitude before falling back asleep.

  


I went back to school the next day. Charlie told me I didn’t need to go. He’d been extra kind to me that morning, having found me asleep on the couch and not even scolding me for letting the dog on the furniture. I had a head wound and people would understand, he said, but I’d rather deal with the headaches then be home alone all day.

 

I was mobbed when I arrived at school – if having a transfer student was exciting for these people, a car crash and near-death was life changing.

 

“Okay, break it up, guys. Give her some air, Jesus!” Jessica authoritatively broke through the crowd and managed to pull me away.

 

The rest of the day passed more or less normally, though I got more stares than I did on the first day of school. And of course, my friends were comfortable enough to interrogate me ruthlessly this time around.

 

“So,” Jessica started ominously during Spanish. “Did Edward _really_ save you yesterday? ‘Cause my dad said that you and Tyler were pretty beat up and that Cullen didn’t have a scratch on him.”

 

For a second I wondered how she in the _world_ she could have known that, then I remembered that my nurse’s name tag had read ‘ _Todd Stanley’_. “You know, I’d always wondered just how everyone knew everything in small towns. I no longer wonder.”

 

She gave me a _look_ and I sighed. “Yes, he really saved my life. Tyler got scratched up from his windshield breaking, and I got bruised from being yanked out of the way. Edward was never in the line of fire. Anyway, his dad’s the town doctor; he probably checked him out at home or something.”

 

I had no idea why I covered for him, other than the way Billy’s voice echoed in my head. _In turn we would keep their secret._ For the rest of the day, when asked, I’d repeat the same story: Edward came up to me to ask for a clarification on the Biology homework, Tyler’s car skidded on the ice, moment of heart-stopping fear, Edward grabbed me by the hand and pulled me out of the way so hard I fell and hit my head, and you guys know the rest. What, Tyler didn’t mention seeing Cullen there? Well, he was fighting for control of his car, I doubt he had much time to take in the scenery.

 

For their part, the Cullens acted normally; or rather, that which passed as normal for them. They didn’t eat or interact with each other in the halls or at lunch. Occasionally, a brave soul would wander up to Edward to ask his version of events and be instantly shut down by an icy, “ _Yes,_ _what do you want?”_

He kept up the cold silence with me too, barely acknowledging me in Biology. More importantly, neither Jasper nor Alice appeared around a corner to give me cryptic answers to the questions that ate at me.

 

When I got home real life drove thoughts of infuriating vampires from my mind.

 

***

 

Though I’d begged him not to tell her, Renée got the truth of my ‘car accident’ out of Charlie and was now calling the house incessantly. I suspected that although I emailed her every other day and called at least once a week, she missed me and was taking full advantage of this situation. But after the second hour-long, tear-laden call in one afternoon I started to long to hit the ignore button. I knew from unfortunate experience that that would just make things worse, so I helped Dog up the stairs and onto my bed, set up my books and laptop, and put the phone on speaker.

 

When Charlie got home he saw the tired look on my face and took the phone away. That of course led to a screaming fight between him and Renée that made me feel ten times worse. To escape it, I took Dog on his first ever walk with us. Or at least I was going to. The sidewalk was still slick so I sat down and tossed sticks for him to chase. For a tripod, he had amazing stamina.

 

Renée didn’t call again, and her emails were terse and curt. I didn’t know whether to be furious at Charlie for interfering… or happy he cared enough to get involved in the first place.

 

***

 

The week passed with little change, and by the next Tuesday my car crash escapade was eclipsed in my peer’s minds by the upcoming Girl’s Choice Dance.

 

It started with Jessica in Spanish.

 

“Are –” she broke off with uncharacteristic hesitance. “Who are you planning on asking to the Dance?”

 

“I didn’t know there was one.”

 

“Yeah, in three weeks. It’s Girl’s Choice.” She fiddled with her pencil for a few moments before blurting out, “I’m going to ask Mike.”

 

I wondered if this was the big thing she’d been leading up to. “Good for you? He’s lucky you chose him.” And he was. Mike was an asshole and Jessica, for all that she could be abrasive at times, was far too good-hearted for him. I didn’t think it was my place to say it though, and held my tongue. It was just a dance; she wasn’t proposing marriage to the guy.

 

Jessica let out a big breath and smiled, her usual bubbly self again. “Good! I was worried you might have wanted to ask him, and that could have gotten _awkward_. I have him next period, I’ll ask him then.”

 

It did not go well.

 

Or at least, that’s what I gathered from the tearful Jessica who grabbed me on the way to lunch and steered me into the closest girl’s bathroom.

 

“He said no?” I asked as I handed her a tissue. She boosted herself onto the counter, her skirt fanned around her like flower petals.

 

“He said he thought I was going with Tyler,” she bit out.

 

I blinked stupidly for a moment, utterly confused. “Did – did Tyler say that?”

 

“No!” she glared at me through wet eyes.

 

It dawned on me slowly, and then I wanted to kick myself. Jessica and Tyler were the only two Black students in our year, and possibly the year below us as well. It would make sense that they went together… if you were an _asshole._

 

“He’s an _asshole_.”

 

Jessica laugh/sobbed. “I guess you can take him to the dance then, Bella,” she said bitterly.

 

I snorted. “Jessica, he was an asshole to Angela, he’s being an asshole to you, I’m not taking him to the dance. Speaking of, where is Angela?”

 

“I didn’t want to bother her. She was against me asking him in the first place.”

 

We stayed in the bathroom for the whole of lunch period. I sat on the floor cross-legged and rested my arm on her knee. Angela found us like that, posed like Omens of Hafez. Jessica repeated the whole story.

 

Angela’s reaction was less angry than mine, more resigned sadness.

 

When the bell rung, we quickly tried to make Jessica presentable and erase any trace of tears. Angela and I ran into Biology late, but still before Mr. Banner.

 

I sat next to Edward, who was as distant as the moon. The drama of the day hadn’t ended, since Mike chose this moment to approach my table.

 

"So," Mike said, looking at the floor, "Jessica asked me to the spring dance."

 

I smiled at him, false and manic.  "That's great,” I said, with cutting cheerfulness. "You'll have a lot of fun with Jessica."

 

"Well . . ." He floundered as he examined my smile, unnerved. "I told her I had to think about it."

 

"Why would you do that?" Exaggerated disapproval filled my tone. He flinched.

 

"I was wondering if . . . well, if you might be planning to ask me." He went red. It was almost endearing, if you forgot what an _asshole_ he was.

 

“No, I’m not,” I said flatly, face utterly blank. His expression flickered from embarrassment to anger.

 

"Why not?" Mike demanded.

 

“Oh, so many reasons. The kindest of which being that I don’t dance.” My clumsiness made dancing hazardous for me, my partner, and any innocent bystanders.

 

"Did you already ask someone?" I wondered if Edward noticed how Mike's eyes flickered in his direction.

 

“Have you not heard a word I’ve said? This. Is none. Of. Your. Business. So, leave.” I knew my chin was jutting out again and I probably had a smile playing on my lips, but I was enjoying myself. I enjoyed being able to take this guy, who’d been so cruel to three of my friends already, down a peg.

Mr. Banner walked in at that moment – didn’t even bat an eye at how Mike had been looming over me aggressively, seriously he was the worst teacher ever – and Mike went back to his seat.

 

After class, while I was packing up my books and wondering what I was going to do in gym now that Mike wasn’t going to cover for me, Edward spoke up.

 

“Bella?”

 

I turned very slowly and kept my gaze slightly down. I was afraid, frankly, of meeting his eyes and losing my objectivity.

 

"What? Are you speaking to me again?" I said, harsher than I meant to.

 

His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted.

 

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I was gritting my teeth. He waited. "Then what do you want, Edward?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed; it was safer that way.

 

"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really."

 

The kicker of it was that I knew exactly what he was saying. He didn’t mean for me to know, he was being deliberately cryptic so that I would feel frustrated and hurt, but I had the decoder. He was a vampire. He couldn’t risk anyone getting close enough to find that out, let alone Police Chief Charles F. Swan’s daughter.

 

I suppressed a laugh; my life was truly ridiculous.

 

"It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."

 

This time I did laugh. “ _No._ Why on _earth_ would I trust you? But I do agree with you on this: it probably is best if we’re not friends.”

 

His expression sharpened, but I left before he could get a word in.

 

***

 

Gym was brutal. We played basketball and I fell. A lot. And then people would trip and fall on top of me. By the end of it I was a massive bruise and almost in tears.

 

I took an Epsom salt bath when I got home and curled up on the couch with Dog and a bowl of cereal. I was still there when Charlie got home.

 

“Hey Bells!” he called from the door. Charlie stopped when he saw me. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think something was wrong?” I lied. I was never a good liar and Charlie’s face darkened with suspicion.

 

“Did the Cullens do something?” he asked.

 

“No,” I jumped from the couch and hurried to the kitchen. “I’m going to start dinner, why don’t you go get changed or something?”

 

In my haste to get out of the room, I forgot that I was no longer wearing my long-sleeved school shirt but an old tank top. Bruises blossomed on my shoulders and upper arms, and the sliver of skin between the hem and my pants was purple as well.

 

“What happened to you?” Charlie demanded. “Is this from the accident? You weren’t like that yesterday.”

 

I sighed. “It’s not from the accident, Dad. It’s from gym.”

 

“What were you playing, full contact football?” he sounded incensed.

 

“Basketball. It’s just… I keep falling.” I went back to the couch and curled around Dog, who wiggled unhappily.

 

“I know you’re clumsy Bella, but,” he trailed off. “How often to you fall down?”

 

“Three or four times today.”

 

“Bella, that’s not normal.”

 

I looked down at my palms, scarred from how I used to catch myself until I learned to fall on my side.

 

“I know.”

 

“Did Renée ever take you to the doctor?”

 

“Yeah,” once. A teacher had seen the bruises. “They said it was all in my head.”

 

“I don’t believe that.” Charlie’s voice was sure. For a moment, I thought he meant he didn’t believe _me_ , before I realized he was refuting the diagnoses. “I’ll take you to a different doctor, a better one, and we’ll –”

 

“No, you don’t have to do that.” I didn’t want to be prodded and examined and told I was crazy again. I didn’t want to be stuck with figuring out how to pay that bill. It didn’t occur to me until later that _Charlie_ would be paying for it I was so used to living on a budget.

 

“Okay,” he sat down next to me and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. He probably would have pushed the issue if it wasn’t for the fact that the best doctor around was a vampire. “What do you think would help? A cane, maybe?”

 

“I don’t know.” I’d never considered a cane before. I’d have to look into that. “It might help if you could talk to Coach Clapp? I really shouldn’t play team games; I’m a bit of a hazard to the other students.”

 

“I’ll talk to her,” he assured me.

 

I nodded and went to the kitchen to make us dinner, Dog limping behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Micro-aggression towards Jessica (who's Black in this). We don't see the incident, but we do see her crying in the bathroom over it.
> 
> Also, link time!  
> Here is the Omens of Hafez painting Bella referenced: http://imanmaleki.com/en/Galery/omensofhafez.htm
> 
> The Caravaggio Edward reminds her of: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Musicians_(Caravaggio)#mediaviewer/File:Caravaggio_-_I_Musici.jpg
> 
> And the Alma-Tadema Rosalie reminded her of: http://www.alma-tadema.org/Ask-Me-No-More,-1906-large.html
> 
> My beta (mirror_prison, who is awesome) tells me the references seem shoehorned in, so I take full responsibility for them.
> 
> Still gonna do it, though


	6. Into the Woods

“Dad, why have you never repainted the cabinets?”

 

We were sitting over a dinner of chicken quesadias, a recipe Rosa had given to me a couple years ago. I missed her.

 

Charlie’s eyes flicked to the cabinets as if realizing their color for the first time. Then his eyes went over the rest of the room, unchanged for almost twenty years, and he sighed.

 

“I don’t spend much time here, Bella. To be honest, I’ve spent more time at home in the last three weeks than I have in the last three years,” he explained. His words cast several things in a new light, and I felt a surprising sense of relief. I was _glad_ that he wasn’t still hung up on Renée. Not that Renee wasn’t someone you could get hung up on – my mother was beautiful and energetic – but it meant that Charlie had his own life. That he was happy. That mattered, a surprising amount.

 

“Where _did_ you spend your time, then?” I asked, curious.

 

“The station,” he said simply. “Or on patrol. I’d come here to sleep, eat at the diner, and then go back to work. I’d spend weekends and holidays at La Push, of course.”

 

_Of course_. I wondered just how common the knowledge of Charlie and Billy’s relationship was.

 

“Does it bother you?” he asked. “That I haven’t… redecorated?”

 

“No, Dad.” Or at least not after I knew _why_. “But if you ever want help re-painting the cabinets, let me know. The paint is starting to chip big time.”

 

***

 

The next day at school I’d barely gotten out of my truck before I slipped on a half-melted piece of ice. As I fell, shifting so I’d land on my forearms and not on the palms of my hands, strong arms wrapped around my waist and hauled me upright.

 

The arms didn’t let me go immediately, and I jerked forward, breaking his hold. I turned to face – who else? – Edward Cullen.

 

“How do you _do_ that?” I blurted out, irritated. Was super-speed supposed to be a vampire power? The reminder of powers made me quickly jerk my eyes away from his. I didn’t even bother with subtlety.

 

“Do what?” he asked, as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

 

I scowled. “Appear out of thin air _just_ when I need you.” Vampire or no, that was weird and suspicious.

 

"Bella, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant." I couldn’t – _wouldn’t_ – see his face, but his tone was archly amused.

 

Oh, I was _done_ with this conversation. I didn’t care who he was, how rich he was, or how _dangerous_ he was. None of that was an excuse for _insulting me._ “Hey, remember _yesterday_? When you suggested we shouldn’t be friends? Can we go back to that? Because you are _insufferable._ ”

 

“I would think gratitude would be in order,” he replied smoothly. “I did just save you from taking a nasty spill, after all.” Left implied was the _last_ time he’d saved me, and hadn’t gotten the gratitude he was entitled too.

 

“I’d rather have fallen,” I spat. In my book, trying to hypnotize me canceled out any ‘gratitude’.

 

“Bella, you are utterly absurd," he said coldly.

 

I bristled and started to walk away.

 

"Wait," he called. I kept walking, but he easily kept pace.

 

"I'm sorry, that was rude," he said as we walked. I ignored him. "I'm not saying it isn't true," he continued, "but it was rude to say it, anyway."

 

“You are _infuriating_!” I whirled to face him. “"Why won't you leave me alone?"

  

"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," he chuckled.

 

“Just say it,” I snarled. “If it’ll get you to _go away_ I’ll listen.”

 

He laughed again. It was absurd how nice his laugh was. “I wanted to see if you’d do me the favor of going to the dance with me.”

 

I wondered if I’d suffered a psychotic break. “Okay, first off, what is it about the male population in Forks that makes them unable of understanding the words ‘girl’s choice.’ Secondly, _why?_ You don’t even _like_ me, Edward.”

 

“I’ll take your points in order. Firstly, who says I’m _not_ a girl?” He smiled charmingly, surprising a laugh out of me. “But seriously, I’m asking as a favor. My _parents_ are worried that I don’t socialize enough, and going to the dance with someone would get them off my back. I’ll be going with my siblings and I know you’re already acquainted with Alice and Jasper. You wouldn’t have to dance,” he added hurriedly, anticipating my next objection and proving that he’d paid attention during my conversation with Mike.

 

I was utterly thrown, and _very_ intrigued. Edward was up to something; I highly doubted his _vampire_ parents were worried that their _vampire_ son didn’t _socialize_ enough. Which meant that he had a hidden – and possibly nefarious – agenda.

 

It made me really want to say yes.

 

Yes, I _did_ realize that meant there was probably something wrong with me.

 

Instead, I turned to him and said, “Really, Edward, you’re going to have to do much better than that if you want to go to the dance with me.”

 

***

 

Jessica and I were just exiting Spanish when a slim arm wound its way around my waist.

 

“Bella!” Alice trilled. “It’s _so_ good to see you. Let’s talk.”

 

Her voice was bright and cheerful, but when I chanced a look at her eyes they were dark and worried.

 

“Of course.” I turned towards a curious Jessica. “I’ll see you at –” from the corner of my eye, I saw Alice minutely shake her head. “I’ll see you later, Jess.”

 

“Okay, Bella. Text me whenever,” the _so that I’ll know you’re okay_ went unsaid.

 

“Sure,” I called over my shoulder, Alice already spiriting me away.

 

She let go of me once we exited the school, though her hand still hovered over my upper arm, poised to grip the moment before I’d lose my balance. It was odd, especially since every time I glanced at her she’d be focusing elsewhere.

 

Across the road from Forks Highschool was a small wooded area. I’d been told that the freshmen science teachers would take their classes there towards the end of the year, to observe and catalogue the wildlife.

 

With winter still giving its last gasp, it was deserted, cold, and imposing. Jasper was leaning against one of the trees, waiting for us. _Of course_ he was; I’d have been more surprised if he _wasn’t._

Right before I stepped into the darkness cast by the trees – exacerbated by how overcast the day was to begin with – my ill-used self-preservation instinct kicked in.

 

“Give me one good reason why I should go into the creepy forest with you,” I demanded.

 

Alice and Jasper shared a look, before turning towards me. “People will die if you don’t,” she said.

 

Well. That was as good a reason as any I could have come up with. I followed them into the penumbra.

 

We stopped just inside the tree line, where a conveniently placed fallen log was surrounded by candy wrappers, beer cans and cigarette butts. The mundane ugliness of litter was like a lifeline to reality, reminding me that we were within a hundred yards of a road and that there was a can of mace attached to my keychain resting beside my cell in my pocket. I may have stepped into a fairy tale world of girls who turn into wolves and blood drinking monsters, but that didn’t mean that _all_ of the old rules had stopped applying.

 

I breathed slow and deep. Jasper was leaning against a tree, half obscured by its shadow, and Alice had taken a seat on the end of the log closest to him. I took a step towards them. “I know what you are.”

 

Alice leaned forward to rest her forearms on her knees and shot me a level glance. “Say it. We need you to say it out loud.”

 

“Vampires,” the word hung between us. I could feel the tension in the air real as the humidity and abruptly the whole situation seemed absurd. “Creature of the night, undead, blood drinking monsters _out of movies and folktales vampires,_ ” by the last words my voice had risen to a shrill, hysterical pitch.

 

“To be fair,” Jasper said mildly. “We don’t drink blood. Or at least, not human blood. Other vampires do, though. Which is part of the problem that has brought us here today.” It was the most I’d ever heard him say before, and once again he spoke with a drawl thick as molasses.

 

I gingerly perched on the far end of the log and motioned for them to continue. “Okay, you have my attention, no need to be cryptic.”

 

Alice snorted. “A coven of vampires is coming; they’ll get here in about two weeks.”

 

“And that’s different from the current situation how?”

 

“Because they are going to _kill_ people _,_ ” Jasper snapped.

 

“Waylon Forge, Cora Johnson, Michelle Stanley,” Alice said in a voice like egg shells, hollow and fragile.

 

“…How do you know that?” I asked, suspicious.

 

“I can see the future,” she said baldly.

 

I thought of white noise machines and a steadying hand always a split second before I needed it. I nodded, “Okay.”

 

Jasper made a disbelieving noise. “That’s it? You don’t want any proof, just ‘okay’?” He stepped forward into the light; his face was a picture of incredulity.

 

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You just admitted to being vampires and you think _fortune telling_ is going to be a hard limit with me?” I let out a slight, humorless laugh. “Honestly, there’s no reason for me to disbelieve anything you say at this point. Either you’re telling the truth or you’re lying. If I believe you, best case scenario I potentially save _lives,_ worst case scenario I look like an idiot. I don’t value my pride that much.” Or much at all, truth be told. When you’ve lived in poverty, pride becomes a tricky thing – some folks cling to it with all their strength, others sell it for all that it’s worth – and I’d always been a practical sort. Rosa once told me it was my best yet least attractive quality.

 

“So,” I continued after a pause. “What are we going to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm sorry this is so late. Can't even blame RL, just the depression makes it hard to keep going sometimes. But never fear, I have a plot outline and fully intend to see this through.


	7. A Moral Dilemma

It came down to a simple choice.

 

“Well,” Alice said. “We can either chase them out of town, or kill them.”

 

At that point I raised my other eyebrow. “Okay,” I said slowly. “And could you please explain why escalating the situation to murderous violence would be a _good thing?_ ”

 

Jasper let out a snort. He walked forward to crouch down next to me. “You _do_ realize that _they_ are coming here with the intent to _kill_ people, right?” he asked with barely masked condescension.

 

If he meant to make me feel small he failed. I leaned towards him instead and looked him straight in the eye. “My dad stops murderers too, and he does it without playing judge, jury and executioner. Now give me a reason why I shouldn’t follow his fine example.”

 

A ghost of a smile touched his lips and he inclined his head, like he was conceding a point. Like something I said impressed him.

 

That didn’t mean he _agreed_ with me, though.

 

“Your father, fine man that he is, doesn’t have to play those roles because he _has_ a judge and jury to play them for him. Unfortunately, we don’t. And I _know_ James and Victoria. Unlike most vamps they don’t kill because they have to; they do it because it’s fun. Because they enjoy it. So they’ll keep doing it, if not here, then elsewhere. But,” Jasper abruptly leaned back, moving from crouching to standing so fast it made my head spin. “In the end it’s up to you.”

 

“Why?” I asked suspiciously. Why would it be up to _me_ of all people?

 

“Because two against three is shite odds,” Alice answered.

 

“And I somehow change that?” I could hardly walk across an icy street without _killing myself_ and they want me to fight _vampires?_

 

Alice sighed, exasperated with me. “The _dogs,_ Bella. We want you to get us a meeting with your Indian dogs.”

***

I _wanted_ to head straight to the precinct to talk to Charlie, but I knew as soon as I got to my car that I couldn’t. Jessica had seen me spirited off by Alice, she’d worry if I just disappeared. I checked my watch and waited impatiently for second period to finish.

 

I ambushed her in the hall between classes. She took one look at my face and dragged me into the nearest bathroom.

 

“ _So,”_ she demanded. “What did _Alice_ want?”

 

I took a moment to admire how she spoke Alice’s name. Not with anger or distaste, but with such eloquent distrust that conveyed more than the president’s last State of the Union address.

 

Thankfully, I’d anticipated the question.

 

“Edward asked me to the dance this morning.”

 

It had the intended effect. “ _What!?_ What did you _say?_ ”

 

“Can’t you guess?” I smirked. She narrowed her eyes at me.

 

“No, actually I _can’t._ On the one hand,” she rose her left hand in the air like she was actually weighing something. I snorted. “He’s im _pos_ sibly fine, and he saved your life. On the other,” there went the other hand.

 

“He’s a bit of a stuck up prick?” I offered.

 

“Yeah, that.”

 

“I said maybe. Alice wanted to interrogate me a bit about it,” I said smoothly, with only a small twinge of guilt for the lie. Honestly, on a utilitarian level, telling Jessica the truth would probably be morally _worse_ than lying.

 

“Okay, what are you going to say?” she asked.

 

“I dunno. You should get to class before the bell rings. This shit is giving me a migraine, I’m going to go home and lay down for a bit.” It was a lame excuse but thankfully the bell rung at that moment and Jessica had no time to question me.

 

Before I left I stopped to shoot Alice a text to the number she’d given me before we left the woods.

 

‘ _If any1 asks we talked about E asking me 2 dance’_ I wrote before my paranoia got ahold of me. I mean, I didn’t know the odds of anyone getting their hands on Alice’s phone, or what the other Cullens thought about this whole… snafu. She _had_ said that ‘two against three’ where shitty odds, so presumably they weren’t in on this. Instead I sent:

 

_‘Don’t ever make me miss class 2 talk about ur brother again’_

Hopefully, she’d get the message. Then I sent a text to Charlie.

 

_DEFCON 2. Need 2 get 2 Billy’s ASAP_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Elysianus, who gave me the kick in the ass to keep going. Sorry it's short, but I need to get back into the swing of writing. :D


	8. Debriefs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Bella is still alive and so am I.  
> Thanks for sticking with me guys. Content Notes: some slight mentions of drug use at the end.

I peeled out of the parking lot faster than I should have and began the long, aggravating drive towards After twenty maddening minutes without seeing a single other car, I pulled over onto the shoulder and let my head drop onto the steering wheel.

Cora Johnson. Michelle Stanley. Waylon Forge.

I wondered if this was what real fear felt like, or if I was just having a panic attack. Juaquin used to have them in middle school; they didn’t seem pleasant.

Cora Johnson had been the waitress at the diner by Charlie’s house for the past twenty-five years. Every summer on my first night back in Forks, Charlie would take me to the diner for dinner and Cora would hug me and exclaim about how big I’d gotten and slip me a slice of blueberry pie ‘on the house for the belle of the ball’. I’d never met Waylon Forge, but Michelle Stanley was Jessica’s _mom_.

I’d like to think that the idea of _any_ three people dying would have affected me similarly, but the truth was that all I could think about was what I could lose: Cora’s light voice bitching about the weather as she served me my club sandwich, Jessica’s easy smiles.

A fierce protectiveness that bordered on almost feral tribalism rose up within me. Forks was _my_ town, and no damn vampire was going to hurt it.

I took a deep breath, forced my hands to stop shaking, and got back on the road.

***

There are times when one is forced to stop, look around and just _marvel_ at the strange places life has taken you.

I’d had a few of those moments myself. Like the time I came home from school to shower and change before work and walked in on my 26 year-old minor-league baseball playing step-father standing in my bedroom, surrounded by the contents of the drawers he’d ransacked, holding up the Tinkerbell backpack I kept Mr. Steve’s cocaine in.  

Or like today, when for the second time in as many weeks I found myself calmly discussing the town’s vampire problem with a pack of werewolves.

My life was _weird._

It was easier than I’d expected to get a meeting with the Quileute Council. Apparently even though Billy was neither a member of the Council nor old enough to be considered an Elder, he had enough pull as Ephraim Black’s grandson and Sarah Wilde’s former husband to call a meeting on two-hour’s notice for his teenaged, almost-stepdaughter.

Then again, the mention of vampires might have something to do with that.

Charlie wasn’t there by the time that they were ready for me but Billy said that given that I was a minor, they’d wait for him. It surprised me how much I _wanted_ him there. It might have been only a few weeks but somehow in that time I’d grown used to the idea of leaning on my father for strength. It was a disturbing thought for someone as independent as me.

The Quileute Council was housed in handsome, one-story building made of polished wood and consisted of the Chief and four other elected officials. On top of the door there was a stylized depiction of Báyaķ, under which there was the phrase: _Oćhiyòlítilo t’ɫàxa._ Inside, however, were the same generic conference rooms one finds in office buildings and hotels the world over. The seer contrast between the mundanity of my surroundings and what I was saying had me fighting the hysterical urge to giggle, although that could have just been my nerves from everyone _looking_ at me.

All eyes were on me as I finished recounting what Alice had told me, something which was becoming distressingly common. I took advantage of the slightly stunned silence that followed to search each face, trying to gauge how exactly they were taking it.

“Well,” Chief Ateara said finally. “That is certainly some news you’ve brought us and well worth missing my afternoon shows for. I know you were hesitant to call this meeting, Billy, but this is _exactly_ what the Tribal Council is _for._ Good work coming straight here, Ms. Swan.”

“Umm thanks? J-just Bella is fine though, Chief Ateara. Sir.” I’m not ashamed to admit that I stuttered a bit. Chief Ateara – with his suit and distinguished white hair and piercing, hawk-like eyes – was _very_ intimidating.

Emily looked up from where she was signing with her mentor the Tribe Historian Lorraine Huahtah, a frail looking woman who had to have been pushing ninety. “Elder Huahtah says that there’s no precedent for this, outside of the non-aggression treaty. Never in Quileute, nor to my knowledge Makah, history has there been any sort of collaborative effort between us and the Cold Ones.”

I’d been slightly surprised to see that the clawing Sam had given her during their fight last week hadn’t fade entirely given how quickly it seemed werewolves healed. Instead, Emily had been left with four long, silvery scars which she displayed fully with her hair scraped back into a tight ponytail and not an ounce of concealer on her face. One of the scars was perilously close to her eye and another tugged at the corner of her mouth, pulling her lips into a slight, perpetual sneer. Emily looked _dangerous_. It was kind of awesome.

“Has the time come to set a new precedent?” asked a council member I’d never met before, a pleasantly plump middle-aged woman named Mary Longtree. I wondered idly if her title was Elder Longtree or just Ms. Maybe she was Mrs. Longtree?

“I don’t see why,” commented Harry Clearwater, one of Charlie’s fishing buddies and Leah’s dad. He’d spent a good portion of the meeting shooting Sam suspicious glares. “Sam’s pack is more than capable of taking care of three leeches.”

Emily cleared her throat loudly. “Excuse me, but _I_ won the dominance fight, _thank you._ And while Sam, Paul, Jared, Kim and I _are_ capable, they won’t be going after _us_ directly. From what Bella has said, they’ll be ambushing people in Forks. We will need to prevent these ambushes from occurring, while also not arousing suspicion from any of the Forksians. Some foreknowledge would be useful, _if_ it can be trusted.” She turned towards me, lifting an eyebrow as if to ask _can they be trusted?_

I paused before speaking. Did I trust Alice and Jasper? Well, no actually, to be frank. But… “I think you should meet them, decide for yourselves. I think the threat is big enough to risk it.”

Next to me Charlie shifted and spoke for the first time. “If y’all don’t do anything, I will. Waylon, Cora and Michelle are _Fork’s_ residents, which makes them _my_ responsibility.”

I felt a stirring of pride for my father. It seemed like being protective and possessive over people was a family trait.

 “You can’t!” Mary Longtree snapped. “One human can’t stand against three vampires, Mr. Swan. You’d die.”

“It’s Chief Swan, actually. Given that I’m the chief of police for the city of Forks and its surrounding area. Which means that if I have knowledge of a threat to public safety in my jurisdiction, I act on it. Don’t worry, ma’am, I don’t plan to run off half-cocked or go punching outside my weight class, but the beauty of being a cop means I have an entire precinct worth of officers at my disposal. Not only that, but I can deputize anyone I feel the need to. Vampires or not, I’m sure three individuals facing a hundred men armed for bear might think twice about causing any mischief.”

Charlie’s mild declaration hit the room like a hand grenade.

I saw Billy drop his head in his hands and mutter something that sounded like, _goddamn it Charlie._

“Chief Swan! You can’t reveal the existence of vampires to the public!” Elder(? I still wasn’t sure of that) Longtree’s voice rose an octave from sheer incredulity.

“There are three lives on the line here! If it comes down to it, I’ll shout it out from the rooftops if I have to! I am here in my capacity as an officer of the _law_ , ma’am, and I will do _anything_ to guard the people I swore to serve and protect! And _don’t_ give me that bull about secrecy,” he snapped went it looked like she was about to protest. “I knew there was something off about the Cullens long before Billy told me a thing and they approached _my_ daughter with this information. You haven’t ‘revealed’ a thing. Or does keeping their secret involve silencing any third party that should happen to find out, because then we have a problem.”

I noticed Emily’s hands moving furiously as she hastened to translate my father’s impassioned, impromptu speech.

Billy groaned. “You said you wouldn’t do anything rash, Charlie.”

“Rash? I’m a policeman, Billy! This is literally my job!”

I sensed another domestic dispute brewing. Thankfully, Emily interrupted them.

“Elder Huahtah says that the treaty doesn’t cover silencing third parties and that personally she thinks we should go for it because ‘it sounds like fun.’” Emily grinned. “I agree.”

Chief Ateara cleared his throat. “That’s one in favor. Anyone else?”

Billy raised his hand.

“Billy, you aren’t a council member, you don’t get a vote,” Chief Ateara sighed, aggrieved. “Harry?”

“Seems like there’s no harm meeting the two vampires, getting some more information. And I trust Emily to make the right decision,” he said.

“Mary?”

“I’m abstaining. I don’t know near enough to decide either way so I’ll place my faith in the Council.”

“John?” Chief Ateara asked the remaining council member, John Locklear, who’d thus remained silent.

“Against. Nothing good comes from trusting outsiders.”

Chief Ateara nodded. “So noted. Majority rules in favor. I’ll leave it to you and your father, Ms. Swan, to contact these Cold Ones to inform them of our decision and arrange a meeting. Ms. Young, you will take the full pack with you, as well as Mr. Clearwater to act in the interests of the tribe and Beck and Billy Black to act as witnesses. Meeting adjourned.”

And that was it. We all left the conference rooms, the councilors heading back to their homes or jobs and the rest of us just kinda milled outside by the parking lot for lack of anything better to do.

After a couple minutes of this I caught Billy giving my dad a significant look. Charlie’s face changed in a way I’d never seen before. He turned to me and said, “I’m going back to Billy’s for a while. Don’t go back to school, I told everyone you fell and aggravated your head wound, so I had to take the day off to take care of you. I’ll see you at home for dinner.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What are you guys going to be doing?” I asked suspiciously. ‘Adults Only’ conversations about significant thing in my life rarely ended well for me.

Charlie gave me an exasperated look. “We might be old, Bella, but we’re not _dead_.”

It took me a second to put it together, but when I did I turned bright red. “Ew! Dad _why?!_ ”

“You ask a stupid question…” he snickered a bit.

I threw an arm over my eyes and pushed him away dramatically. “Go, do unspeakable things with your boyfriend, I can’t stand to look at you.”

Charlie laughed and turned to go back to his cruiser.

“You’ve scarred me for life, Dad!” I shouted after him. “The mental imagery has _burnt out my eyeballs_!”

As dad drove away Emily came up from behind and slung an arm over my shoulder. Standing this close to her for the first time in, like, two years drove home just how _tall_ Emily was – about a head taller than my respectable 5’5”.

“So, it sounds like you’ve got some time to kill, eh hókʷat’?”

“Seems like,” I agreed. I slipped my arm around her waist, reveling in the casual affection. Maybe it was a side-effect of almost all my Arizona friends being some flavor of Hispanic, but I was getting seriously touch-starved in Forks. It was an unexpected adjustment, having to go from being greeted via hugs and kisses to waves and the occasional high-five.

“Want to go get high on the beach with us?” Emily asked and, after the past few weeks I’d been having, it sounded like the best idea ever.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for CH.2, up next week hopefully on Monday.


End file.
